- cw: potential afaa spoilers! lower case intended, smut, p in v, sex pollen, kinda hate sex (fuck or die but dying isn’t an option), cheating (sorry neytiri!), forced proximity? (the pit), grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, biting. let me know if i missed anything!
- an: saw afaa on friday and jake looked so dang scrumptious in that prison jumpsuit, i had to hold myself back from jumping at the screen.
- wc: 3.3k
- summary: after your clan’s attack on the wind traders, you crash land near a burning caravan with surviving clan members. whilst varang punishes captured na’vi, slicing through their kuru’s, only you spot a tall, male na’vi watching from the shrubbery. you give chase, too worried that by the time everyone else is alerted, he’d be far gone. when you catch him, the confrontation turns physical, sending you both tumbling into a hidden pit of strange flowers. exposed to the pollen’s effects and unable to escape, hostility gives way to desperate survival.
༻༺
you let out a groan of pain, hands digging into the soft flora of pandora as you pull yourself sitting upright. your nightwraith unfortunetly got shot down in the process of the attack on the tlalim clan, by only who you could assume was jake sully, the ‘great toruk makto’. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought, everyone across pandora knew of him, the great stories told about a sky person turned na’vi who proceeded to save the whole planet.
the impact of the hit affected your body, making you feel bruised and battered as slowly but surely, you made your way towards the scattered members of your clan who landed not too far from you. varang being one of them.
screams echoed through the forest as fire spewed from side to side, members of the mangkwan clan threw themselves at remainders of other na’vi, which crashed alongside the now alit caravan, piercing some of them with knives. others were forced to perform tsaheylu with varang, a painful process as she wrapped their kuru around her knife and sadistically sliced it, pained screams filling your ears.
you made your way and stood beside riku, varang’s henchman. a tlalim na’vi was thrown at your feet. instinctively, you followed suit and gripped the back of his head, running your hand along the kuru as you pulled the base of it, knife wrapped around it.
the fire burned stronger and brighter, sparks falling from the wrecked caravan. the mangkwan members surrounding you danced and mimicked animalistic noises.
as varang began talking, you couldn’t help but zone out, blocking all sorts of noises out. your eyes focused on a random patch of the forest as you thought you saw a flicker of movement.
the fire burning beside you helped illuminate the surrounding shrubbery and flora as you zoned in on specific bushy area. you hummed in contemplation, pondering on whether or not to investigate what potentially could be nothing.
a small movement in the bush snaps you out of your thoughts as you see a sparkle, reflecting that of fire, in what resembles a pair of eyes.
you let out a hiss as you drop the tlalim na’vi, they’d be delt with by another.
evidently, you were correct, as the figure you thought was in the bush, came to be real.
the dark blue skinned na’vi got up from their crouched position and began to run. you weren’t far behind.
it took a good few minutes of running after this figure before you managed to catch up, lurching forwards and slamming into them, causing a tussle on the grass.
swiftly, you pulled the male to the ground and straddled him as you attempted to pull out your knife from the sheath on your hips but unfortunately got disarmed rather quickly as he threw you onto your back.
“jake sully..” a hiss came from your lips as you barred your fangs.
you lay on your forearms.
the moonlight mixed with the bioluminescent flora bouncing off his face quickly revealed who this figure was.
“don’t sound too excited.” he scoffed as he set up a defensive stance.
you hissed again before standing upright and going for another attack. you lurched forward, going in for a punch to his face. jake barely has time to brace before your fist whistles past his jaw, close enough that he feels the rush of air. he pivots instinctively, grabbing your forearm and twisting, using your momentum against you. you snarl and drive a knee toward his ribs, catching him hard enough to force a grunt from his chest.
“still fast,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
you wrench free and spin, tail lashing behind you as you circle him. the forest hums softly around you, bioluminescent plants lighting the clearing in flickers of blue and green.
‘toruk makto, demon, enemy’ is all you could think, hatred bubbling inside of you.
You rush him again, fingers grazing his shoulder this time. he reacts instantly, shoving you back, feet skidding against the damp ground as he regains his footing. the two of you collide once more, hands locking at each other’s wrists, muscles straining as neither gives an inch.
“you should’ve stayed hidden,” you hiss.
“after what i saw?” jake scoffed, “that’s inhuman!” he yelled at you.
your grip falters for half a second, long enough for him to twist you sideways and drive you both into the undergrowth. the ground slopes sharply beneath your weight, loose soil giving way as you grapple for control.
‘no-’
then.. the earth disappears.
you fall together, limbs tangled, crashing through layers of soft petals and unfamiliar blooms. the impact knocks the breath from your lungs as flowers burst beneath you, releasing a shimmering cloud of spores into the air.
the scent fills your lungs. you cough, scrambling to your feet, only to stagger.
the scent is thick. sweet. wrong.
‘something’s not right’
jake groans nearby, pushing himself up on one elbow, eyes unfocused as the pollen curls around you both. the fight stalls, not from mercy, but from the sudden, dizzying heat flooding your veins.
your legs threaten to give out beneath you. you dig your fingers into the soil, steadying yourself as warmth coils through your body in slow, invasive waves. your thoughts blur at the edges, anger dulling into something hazy and unfocused.
‘this isn’t weakness.’
you grit your teeth. ‘it’s the plants.’
jake drags himself upright a few paces away, one hand braced against the rock wall of the pit. his breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling too fast as his gaze lifts to you, and lingers. something flickers across his face. realisation almost.
“don’t..” he starts, then falters, swallowing hard. “don’t breathe it in.”
too late.
the spores glow faintly around you both, disturbed by every movement. heat pulses low in your stomach, unfamiliar and humiliating, making it harder to remember why you’re supposed to hate him. your tail flicks behind you without your permission.
jake notices.
his jaw tightens as he looks away, forcing himself to focus. “this place,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “it’s.. it’s doing something to us.”
you let out a shaky breath that turns into something dangerously close to a laugh. “you think?” you scoffed in a sarcastic tone.
silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. the pit feels smaller by the second, the air pressing in on your skin. you take a step back, only to hit the curved wall behind you. jake mirrors the movement without realising.
your eyes meet his again, and this time he doesn’t look away. his pupils are blown wide, just as you’d imagine yours are. expression torn between restraint and something far more primal. he clenches his fists at his sides, knuckles whitening.
“this is bad,” he says quietly. “we need to wait it out. not touch. not..”
a wave of heat crashes through you. you let out a pained gasp, hand flying to your chest, as your knees threaten to buckle.
“damn it..” you hiss, fighting for balance.
you stagger forward despite yourself, vision blurring at the edges. jake reacts on pure reflex, catching your forearm to keep you from hitting the ground. the contact is brief but sharp.
you both freeze.
his grip tightens instinctively before he realises, fingers curling around your wrist. you feel the heat of his skin through yours, the sensation jarring and wrong in a way that makes your breath hitch.
jake freezes, breath hitching as he realises what he’s done. you should pull away. you don’t. the spores shimmer brighter around you, responding eagerly, the forest almost listening.
your breath comes too fast. too loud. every sensation feels sharpened to a painful edge, the brush of leaves against your calves, the pulse hammering in your ears. and jake.
you hate that you notice him like this.
the scent of him cuts through the sweetness of the pollen. smoke, sweat, pandora, strong enough to make your head spin. every breath he takes, sounds amplified, the rise and fall of his chest impossible to ignore. his muscles tense beneath your grip, allowing you to feel how strong he really is.
against instinct, your gaze drops.
his pupils flicker, once, twice, to your mouth before he forces his eyes away, jaw tightening hard enough to ache.
“don’t,” he growls, voice rough, warning more himself than you.
another wave crashes through you, sharper this time, and you stumble forward, into his arms practically. jake swears under his breath and reacts without thinking, slamming you back against the curved wall of the pit. his hand comes up, one pinning your wrist above your head, not gentle, not cruel. necessary. whilst the other holds your waist.
too close.
your chest brushes his, heat bleeding between you like a living thing. his hips jerk a fraction of an inch, as if startled by the contact, and the movement sends a jolt through both of you.
the silence is thick.
“this means nothing,” he says immediately, voice ragged, breath warm against your cheek. his grip tightens, more anchor than threat. “you hear me? this is just..” he swallows, “the pollen.”
his gaze drags back to yours, dark and unfocused, like he’s fighting a battle entirely inside his own head. the spores swirl lazily around you, glowing brighter with every shallow breath, every accidental brush of skin.
the tension snaps like a bowstring, one moment you're glaring at each other, the next your lips crash together in a searing kiss. jake’s grip on your wrist tightens, his other hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, hauling you flush against him. the moment your lips touch, the spores react violently, bioluminescent pollen surges around you in swirling clouds, painting your skin in flickering blue light.
“this means nothing," jake repeats, growling against your mouth, but his body betrays him, his tail lashes out, twining possessively around your thigh. his hips jerk forward, pressing you harder into the wall, and the kiss deepens with a hunger that’s anything but meaningless. his teeth graze your lower lip, sharp enough to sting, and you bite back just as hard, earning a rough groan from him.
the pollen amplifies everything, every drag of his tongue against yours is electric, every gasp magnified. your hands twist free, fingers digging into his shoulders, his braids, anywhere you can hold on as his mouth moves to your throat, his fangs pricking the sensitive skin there. “still hate me?” he mocks, voice thick with hatred yet desire, but the way his hands tremble gives him away.
you don’t answer, you can’t, because his lips are back on yours, swallowing your protests, your pride, everything but the heat coiling low in your stomach.
you can’t help but slowly, torturously grind against him as you indulge in the passionate kiss, wet kisses exchange between you both.
he moans into the kiss, hips grinding against yours in a rough, deliberate rhythm that makes your tail lash against his calf.
“still pretending this means nothing?" you pant against his lips, your own curling into a smirk.
jake’s answer is a growl, his free hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hiking it around his waist as he pins you harder against the wall. the friction is maddening, every rock of his hips drags the hard length of him against you, teasing what you both really want. his breathing is ragged, pupils blown so wide his eyes look near-black in the bioluminescent glow.
“shut up," he snarls, but his fingers are already working at the ties of your loincloth, hands scraping sensitive skin as it falls away. his palm slides over your bare ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and you hiss, arching into him.
“fuck..” his voice cracks when you roll your hips against him, deliberate this time, dragging a ragged moan from his throat.
you can’t help but let a small moan slip from your own lips as the friction between you both stimulates you so well.
“off..” you mumble into the kiss as you reach for his own loincloth, finding the state of undress between you both rather unfair.
“take it off.” you say once more, pulling at the strings as the kissing and grinding continues.
he hums in response, not putting up too much of a fight and reaches down to to pull at the strings of his own loincloth, allowing for it to fall down to the ground.
you can’t help but break the kiss, a string of saliva separating your lips as you look down, in awe almost, at him.
jake let’s out a chuckle as he sees your face, “you like it?” he says with a cocky tone, the smirk on his face only growing wider.
you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t pretty, because holy shit was his cock gorgeous.
your fingers twitch with the urge to touch it, but jake beats you to it, his calloused hand wraps around himself with a rough stroke, making your breath hitch. the sight alone sends a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through your cunt, your tail curling involuntarily around his thigh as if trying to pull him closer. his smirk deepens at your reaction.
“see something you like?” he taunts, voice gravelly with arousal, as he pumped his angry cock. the tip glistening with smeared precum already.
you don’t dignify him with words. instead, you surge forward, capturing his lips in another bruising kiss as your hand replaces his, fingers sliding over his cock with deliberate pressure. the groan he lets out is muffled against your mouth, his hips stuttering into your touch.
you tease him with slow strokes at the base, eventually making your way up closer to the tip. you run your thumb over the slit and watch as jake inhales sharply, his stomach tightening.
“feel good?” you tease into the kiss.
jake’s only response is a growl, low, feral, before he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand off his cock.
you let out a squeal of surprise as he swiftly positions you both onto the mossy ground beneath.
you feel a hand press against the back of your head as he smushes your face into the moss. his other hand reaches down to the dip of your back, pushing down on it, resulting in you arching nicely for him.
he positions himself behind you, grabbing your ass as he kneads it like bread. “look at this gorgeous cunt.” he threw his head back with a groan.
you mewl in response as his curious fingers get the best of him. he ran his fingers over your pussy, spreading your lips apart with his index and middle finger.
“look how wet she is doll.” jake grins as he brung his hand back up, a string of slick following.
you let out a loud moan in response as you look back at him, he uses the same hand and coats his cock in your juices, giving it a few jerks before he slides against your slick heat, teasing, taunting. the head catching on your clit with each rough grind of his hips.
you move back against him, feeling his cock rub against your cunt.
you can feel him almost measuring against your stomach, how deep it’d go inside you.
the answer is very deep.
you look down and see where it reaches up to, just above your navel.
jake’s hand that was pressed against your head, now eases as he reaches for you kuru instead, wrapping it around his hand in a fist as he yanks you up, gently but with purpose.
he brings his lips up to your ear as his chest pressed against your back.
“you’re a fucking slut.. you know that..” he whispered against your ear, followed by a lick as he kissed behind your ear.
you whine at his words, any form of defensiveness is out the window.
“just had to run after me, didn’t you?” he began rocking his hips.
“i bet you wanted this to happen, to have you struggling beneath me.” he murmured.
you shook your head, a whiney “noo..” followed, it didn’t sound very believable even if you attempted.
jake scoffed in return before he unravelled your kuru, grip still tight. he guided it to his own, the tendrils on yours and his both revealed themselves as tsaheylu was formed and you connected with each other.
he let go of your kuru as you bother gasped in pleasure. loud noises emitted from you both as you felt each other in a whole different dimension almost.
your head dropped back onto the mossy ground as he let go.
“liar liar..” was all he said before he angled his hips with yours and slammed into you.
the stretch is brutal, delicious, punching a ragged scream from your lungs. jake doesn’t give you a second to adjust, his rhythm is punishing from the start, each thrust driving you deeper into the bioluminescent petals beneath you. his tail lashes wildly, curling around your thigh to hold you open, to take him deeper.
“Kalweyaveng (son of a bitch) .. j-jake..” you whine, your fingers tear at the moss, knuckles white, as pleasure crests violently.
you instinctively arch even more, slowly matching his thrusts.
he leans over you, fangs scraping your shoulder. “say my name again," he demands, voice raw.
you choke it out, “jake!” as his hand reaches down and begins to circle around your clit. hips snapping harder with each thrust. his breath is ragged in your ear, small groans and moans escape his lips with every clench of your cunt clamping down on his cock.
another hand reaches down, pulling at your top and begins groping at your tits, squeezing them and groping them harshly.
he plays with your nipples, squeezing them and gently pulling at them, adding to the pleasure you’re feeling already.
his fingers tighten around your breast, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingertips until you gasp, your tail lashing wildly against his thigh.
jake's restraint is hanging by a thread, the thin leash of his self-control fraying with every stroke, every breath he’s inhaling, the sweet scent of you mixed with the intoxicating pollen, only drives him deeper into madness. his thrusts grow erratic, his control slipping with each desperate roll of his hips. you can feel him trembling against you, his muscles taut, his tail tightening possessively around your thigh like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
“fuck, you feel..” his voice cracks mid-sentence, his lips crashing against the back of your neck, teeth scraping skin as he stifles a groan. his rhythm stutters, hips snapping harder, faster, chasing the inevitable crest of pleasure that’s been building between you both.
you whimper beneath him, nails digging into the moss, the slick sound of skin on skin drowned out only by your gasps and the rustling petals beneath you. every drag of his cock inside you hits just right, sending sparks of heat up your spine. his fingers on your clit don’t let up, circling mercilessly until you’re teetering on the edge.
and then he bites down on your shoulder.
you let out a scream.
the sharp pain morphs into pleasure so fast it leaves you dizzy, your entire body tensing as the coil inside you finally snaps. your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock in waves as you shudder violently, stars bursting behind your eyelids.
jake curses, hips stuttering as your climax pulls him over the edge. his grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising as he buries himself deep, his groan ragged against your skin. hot pulses of his cum fill you, his cock twitching inside you as he rides out his own orgasm with slow, grinding thrusts.
for a moment, the only sound is your panting breaths and the soft hum of the forest around you.
jake pulls out abruptly, hissing through his teeth at the sensitivity. he collapses beside you, chest heaving, staring up at the glowing canopy above with an expression caught between satisfaction and disbelief.
you stay where you are, limp against the moss, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. the pollen haze lingers, but the urgency has faded.
༻༺
hii! i hope you guys enjoyed reading this! i’m not sure how well written this is as i’ve not bothered re-reading it hahaha, so i’m hoping it doesn’t seem rushed!
requests are welcome, along with reblogs, likes and shares, thank you for supporting my work!!
WARNINGS: p in v / infidelity / reader has female body / porn with plot / reader is metkayina / dirty talk / public sex / cunnilingus / multiple positions / size kink / belly imprint mentions / hair pulling / multiple orgasms / backshots
AN: so sorry for leaving you guys for so long, i needed to take a writing break because i have a really bad habit of writing a bunch then getting super burnt out so i need to remind myself to take a week or two to recharge and get back into it!! anyways i hope u guys enjoy this!! as much as i love neytiri i rlly wanted to do like a guilty kinda dark smut also for everyone who voted on the poll DWWW because neteyam is next!
WC: 2.9k
꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ
The Na'vi from the forest came with a different beat. They were awkward and strange, their bodies too lean, their tails too stiff, their feet unsuited for the sand and coral. You observed from your perch above the village as the great Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully, stood before your leaders. His kin stood with him, a look of defiance and terror in their eyes.
You were chosen, along with a few others, to assist in their acclimation. To teach them the ways of the water. It was one of the ways you came to know him. Up close, he was even more menacing. A warrior forged from the darkness of a mighty tree, his aura spilling over the area surrounding you. And his eyes. There was a heaviness in them that you couldn't understand, this depth of sorrow tempered with the steel of a survivor.
You instructed him on how to hold his breath for longer periods of time, on how to swim with the currents instead of against them. His imperfect spear thrusts would be corrected by your gentle hands, your bodies brushing together for an instant too long. You also instructed him in the song of the reef, the names of the various corals and fishes. During these classes, you would notice him looking at you. Not the way a student looks at his instructor, but the way a starving man looks at a woman.
He would look at your mouth, your hips, the way your own thick tail swished back and forth in the water. Then, suddenly remembering himself, he would swallow, his voice harsh and loud in the quiet lagoon, and distance himself from you. You could see the flicker of guilt passing over his face, followed by his own gaze drifting away, preoccupied with the horizon and the burdens of his own conscience, which weighed heavier than the weight of any prying eyes. The struggle between them was almost alive, the third entity to join them in the water.
Now, today's lesson was finished. You were swimming back to the main part of the reef, your heart full of joy. Your tsurak moved easily across the water's surface, and with you swam your tulkun brother, Ro’no. He was singing his deep, throaty song. The day was a perfect one. The sun warmed your scale-covered skin, and the air was thick with the salt of the reef.
Then came the shadow.
A monstrous metal shape, a wound on the surface of the ocean, began to rise. A sky people submarine. You could barely register the danger, a dreadful, metallic thwump booming through the water. The song died away into a pained, gurpling scream. You looked down to see a terrible metal spear protruding from his side, a cloudy red streamer of brilliant crimson blood seeping into the water.
Panic gripped you now, cold and clear. You called out his name in futile shouting that was lost in the vastness of water. You urged your tsurak forward, your heels dug into its flanks in blind terror. But your pursuer was faster. A harpoon lanced out of the water to impale your mount behind its head. Your tsurak collapsed in death seconds before you tumbled into the foamy water below.
You swam.
You swam with every last bit of energy in you, gasping for air, muscles screaming in torment. The shadow of the submarine hung above you, a hunter playing with its victim. The vibrations of the engine thrummed in the water around you. Any hope was long lost. It was now or never. Your eyes clenched shut, and in an act of final desperate prayer, you held up your queue to your chest and prayed to Eywa.
Then a missile was launched from the submarine; the trail of bubbles was coming straight for you.
You gritted your teeth, bracing for impact, but there was none. Rather, an intoxicating Arm dragged you back out of the water, forcing you so violently you almost screamed. You found yourself weightless, plummeting onto a slick, blue back. Your eyes snapped open. It was Jake. He sat on his tsurak, his muscles thrown up in a rigid barricade in front of you, one arm clenched like an iron vise across your waist. He kept his gaze fixed fixedly straight ahead, forcing you backward and away from the metal behemoth killing your brother.
"You should really be more careful, sweetheart." He warned, though you could sense the underlying teasing tone to his words.
He didn’t stop until the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, steering his tsurak towards a small, isolated reef isle. He helped you down, his fingers grazing your side in a way that was just a fraction of a second too long before he stepped back. He disconnected his queue from his mount, then patted it hard. ”Go. Go tell the Metkayina what’s happened. Tell them where we are.” The tsurak let out a protesting cry before leaping back into the water.
The silence was oppressive, apart from the occasional splash of the waves against the shore. Jake moved with a bruteness that verged on brutality, gathering driftwood to build a fire. You sat on the sand, your knees tucked into your chest, the memory of blood in the water etched behind your eyes. The adrenaline was ebbing, leaving you with a hollow, shaking void.
He sat down beside you, not touching but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin. The space between you was heavy with all of the things that you'd been meaning to say. The sideways looks, his fingers drifting against yours and then jerking back as if he’d been burned.
“Thank you,” You finally managed to whisper hoarsely. You moved closer, despite your fear, your need for comfort taking over. He coughed, his eyes fixed intently upon the fire. His tail-twitch was aggressive, jerky movements in the sand beneath him. He simply nodded, his body tense with every muscle strained.
You reached out and touched his bicep, feeling the rock-solid muscle underneath his skin. "Jake. I don't even know how to thank you. You just saved my life."
That was it. The breaking point.
Slowly, he turned his head to turn to you. The flames of the fire danced in his eyes, making them gleam with gold before shifting to molten amber. You saw the struggle in his eyes, of duty, guilt, and loyalty, but something else too, something primal and hungry, something reflected in your own hungers. His eyes rested upon your lips, then returned to your eyes. Between you, the distance had vanished.
He could take it no longer.
His lips crashed down on yours. It wasn't an gentle kiss. It was an aggressive, needy kiss. There was salt and pain and an illicit passion that had been simmering for what felt like weeks. His hands were in your hair, grasping it, holding you to him as if he were starving for this kiss. You kissed him back just as roughly, your hands grasping for his chest, for the fabric of his loincloth.
He pulled you into his embrace, his hardness pressed against your body, his thickness bulging against the thin leather of his trousers. He ended the kiss, his breathing heavy in his chest as he looked at you with an expression of both lust and torment.
"I shouldn't," he growled, but his movements contradicted him. His hands wandered all over your body, learning your contours, his thumbs rubbing against the peaks of your nipples through your top. "But I have to. I have to taste all of you," he was mumbling.
He laid you back down on the sandy bed, his husky body covering your entire length. He pulled at the ties of your chest wrap, peeling it back to expose your breasts. He groaned, burying his head between your breasts as his mouth accepted a peaked nipple. His biting and sucking sparked an electric sensation that went straight to your loins, wetting you for him.
His hand trailed down your belly, slipping between your legs. No hesitation, his fingers locating your dampness, caressing you expertly. "You're so wet for me," he whispered against your skin. "So fucking ready." He thrust two fingers deep, then a third, pumping in and out while his thumb danced around your clit. You arched your hips into his touch, milked him for every sensation he could provide, and sighs left your lips.
But he was far from finished teasing you. He shifted, his lips trailing down your body until he was nestled between your legs. He gazed up at you, his eyes dark and feral. Before you could process what he was about to do, his lips lowered and his tongue was on you. He ravaged you with an intensity that teetered on the edge of brutal savagery, his lips and tongue devouring your most sensitive spot until you’re thrashing and pleading for respite. When your climax finally detonated in your system, you screamed his name out loud.
Even before the ripples of pleasure dissipated, he began the next movements. He began the process of undoing his own loincloth. The fabric dropped away. His cock erupted from the loosened cloth, large, hard, and bending upward. He reached out a quick stroke before fixing his gaze on yours.
“I'mma fuck you,” he said, his voice a low command, barely audible as his lips trace all over your skin. “I'm going to fuck you until you forget everything but my name.”
He hooked his hands under your knees, separating your legs far apart. He placed himself at your entrance and thrust inside, slowly and deeply, extending you to your limit. You gasped at the overwhelming feel of being so thoroughly stretched by him. He paused to let you adjust, and then he started moving.
His strokes were powerful and deep, a punishing rhythm that echoed his own pent-up emotions. Every slam of his body against yours left you winded.
He shifted his weight, pressing deeper, and his eyes drifted down to where your bodies were joined. A low, guttural groan rumbled in his chest as he saw it: the thick, rigid outline of his cock pressing against your stomach, a clear, undeniable imprint of his size inside you. He slowly withdrew, almost all the way out, and you watched, transfixed, as the bulge vanished.
Then he thrust back in, hard and deep, and the shape reappeared, more pronounced than before. "Look at that," he growled, his voice a rough, possessive whisper. He placed a large hand flat on your belly, his thumb pressing down right over the head of his cock through your skin.
"Fuck, look at you. So small, taking all of me." A hot blush crept up your neck and flooded your cheeks, a wave of embarrassment washing over you at his raw words. But it was immediately followed by a jolt of dark, shameful pleasure.
You loved it. You loved how he filled you so completely, how his size was a claim written on your very body. He saw your blush and smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Yeah, baby. Take it. Take it all."
He grasped a wad of your hair, forcing your head back to bare your neck to him. He bit down on the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder joined, just enough to leave a mark, to claim you.
"You feel that?" he growled in your ear. "You feel how hard you make me? I've wanted this since I saw you," he said.
He maneuvered, drawing out and turning you onto your stomach. He penetrated you from behind, this new positioning allowing him to push even deeper. He reached for your hips, drawing them back to meet his thrusts. The slapping of skin against skin, combined with your cries and his growls, filled the night air.
Then, you felt it. The sensation of a caress against your own queue. You stiffened. He was reaching for the ultimate contact a Na'vi could give.
“Jake.” you breathed, a warning and a plea.
"Shhh," he comforted, his movements slowing. "Let me in. Let me feel you," he pleaded.
He carefully picked the tip of your queue in his hand and extended it to connect with his own. As soon as they met, a world of pleasure erupted inside your head. In an instant, you knew what he was feeling: the grief in his heart, the guilt for Neytiri, the urgent need for you, the bliss of being inside you. And he knew what you were feeling: your fear, your grief for your tulkun, the mind-blowing pleasure he was giving you.
It was too much. The combination of physical pleasure and emotional ecstasy pushed you toward another orgasm. His body was experiencing it too, and his movements became erratic, desperate.
"Come for me," he ordered, the voice in your head as well as in your ears. "Come with me."
Your release shattered you, a silent scream ripping from your throat as your internal walls snapped shut around him. The rush of your orgasm resonating through his mind launched him over the edge. With a brutal thrust, he drove himself deep within you and spilled his seed, a roar of pure, painful pleasure erupting from his chest. You felt his warm seed flood your channel, and within your link, his soul shattered and rebuilt in one blinding instant.
He collapsed upon you, and the weight was a comforting, settling pressure. You simply lay there for a long time, the fire snapping, the waves lapping against the shore. The connection you shared dissipated, but the imprint of his thoughts within your mind was left. He retreated, and you felt a twinge of sadness from the void.
He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were facing him. He reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was shockingly tender now. He focused his attention on the mark he had put on your shoulder.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice heavy with a feeling you couldn't quite place. “For everything.”
You understood he wasn’t just talking about the bite. He was talking about Ro’no, about the submarine, about his wife, about this whole, perfect, terrible moment. You didn’t say anything. You merely leaned in and kissed him softly, a gentle pressing of lips, worlds away from the desperation in the kiss just moments before.
He hugged you back, his arms enfolding you as he held you tightly to his chest as though he feared you'd vanish. And in this forgotten, minute island, under the observation of Eywa, you and he discovered this dark, beautiful refuge in each other’s embrace.
But the solace was not to last.
Faint at first, then growing clearer, voices carried across the water. They were calling your names. Tonowari's deep, steady boom. Ronal's sharp, concerned trill. And then, a voice that made Jake's entire body go rigid against yours: Neytiri.
"Jake!"
Panic, sharp and sudden, sliced through the after-sex haze. Both of you scrambled up from the sand, a clumsy, frenetic waltz of reclaiming rejected cloth. You smoothed your loincloth, quickly rebinding your chest cloth, your hands shaking. Jake latched his own loincloth, his movements swift and sure. He ruffled his long hair, trying to erase all signs of your frenzied sex.
You noticed him, and a slow, menacing grin crept across his features. There was no remorse in his eyes only the excitement of evasion.
"Close call," he silently mouthed, his eyes aglow with the intensity of an animal.
The calls were getting closer. You could make out the forms of their ilus swimming through the water towards the island. Neytiri was the first one who reached the shore. She leapt off her ilu before it came to a complete stop. She rushed towards Jake, embracing him in a hug as he navigated off his own mount.
“Jake!” she exclaimed again, burrowing her face into him. “We were so worried. The tsurak said you were attacked.” He hugged her in return, his arms wrapping around her waist, but his gaze was locked on you from over her shoulder. "We're okay," he said calmly and steadily. "It's okay. We're okay."
Ronal and Tonowari soon followed. And the Tsahík's acute eyes had already settled upon you, her face reflecting both fierce maternal protectiveness and relief. She flung herself toward you, cupping your face with gentle hands as if searching it over for wounds. "My child," she whispered, pressing her thumbs against your cheek. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
“I'm okay, Tsahík,” you managed to say, your voice raw from screaming. “They… they killed Ro'no A wave of sadness passed over Ronal's face, but her attention never wavered from you. She searched you thoroughly, her hands resting on your arms and sides to see if you were wounded anywhere. But you felt none of it.
Your entire soul had been attuned to the man with his woman mere feet away from you. Jake was caressing Neytiri's hair, whispering soothing nothings, but he never looked away from you. The pull was magnetic and irrevocable. In those eyes, you saw the echo of your ecstasy, the whisper of desperate moans, the sensation of hands upon your skin.
He was with her, but he is with you, with you in the firelight, with you on the sand, lost in a passion that never should have been. While his mate hugged him tight and the Tsahik attended to you, the two of you simply sat there, the mystery of the island poised between you
🐝 book 2 of the bridgerton inspo story 🐝
🐝 that older sister 🐝
summary : neteyam & his family have returned to awa'atlu, residing. as the eldest daughter of tonowari & ronal you are expected to find a mate via your people. when the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, also ao'nung's best friend, reenters your life - you're thrown off course.
but when you are caught participating in such scandalous acts, will you mate with who you love?
warnings!
mdni, 18+ language, swearing/cussing, slight angst, mean neteyam, smut, sex in public, rough sex, creampie, neteyam's a munch, reader is not petite, corruption, reader is oblivious, reader's inexperienced, spitting, overstim just smut & fluff!
a/n 📝 : no spell or grammar checks soz, i love bridgerton istg who's excited for the 4th season!? ✨ (ps this is long asf)
you dreamed of love as something fascinating, hard to come by.
it is not mere the thought of our minds it is beyond our imagination, beyond the lessons we are taught as we grow.
but how were you meant to know love would face you from one of a different clan, different tradition. you were not expecting to be pulled from your family like this, residing in a mauri which was empty and cold with silence.
your people and family are important to you. awa'atlu is your home, your beginning and hopefully your end, you are one with the metkayina. awa'atlu is home to many, land of 1000 years old surround the people, there is lesson, teachings, guidance, through the waters.
but when you declined every sing lelefnelan (male) na'vi that stepped before you, there was no place for you to complain with where you are now. you brought this upon yourself. your sa'nok (mother) and sempu (father), the Great Olo'eyktan Tonowari te Tsika'u Arvak'itan & Tsahìk Ronal te Natsira Tan'ite, pushed you to bring life to the clan. have children, find your mate for life, perform tsaheylu before eywa.
blah blah blah.
marriage was exciting, finding that someone was exhilarating. but you did not expect it to come like this. losing your position as the next olo'eykte for love. maybe it was the thrill of looking rather than gaining.
you were not shown of what is to come, what may happen. you were not told of the addicting sensation that happens between your thighs. you were not prepared for the aspects of marriage.
disappointment is what filled your parents at first, heavy silence, lectures every time you breathed, what else were they expecting from you? you cannot force tsaheylu with a lelefnelan (male) you do not love, it is painful just the thought of it.
you are rebellious in your parents eyes, hard to tame, annoying once your mouth is open. don't point fingers! it is not your fault that you have a mind of your own and do not rely on a significant other to respond for you.
years of childish behaviour, roaming the waters freely, getting into fights that you would lose, eating at your hearts desire, not caring of your image.
it is only until recently you have become more...tamed.
you are the Metkayina's crowned pearl. a burdening title but one where those of the other clans make you the talk of the century. is it a flex? possibly. a title rewarded for your care of the people, modesty, looks & skills. you have to put on a character for the people, they cannot see who you truly are.
when the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya had graced you with his presence it was almost as if you had returned to being a teenager. a sudden wash of deja vu filled you when laying eyes upon him, your soul had been this close to him before.
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya. when your family had first met them, they were all children, teens. the bond between you all formed naturally, from years of fighting beside one another.
but you were never close to neteyam, you were best friends with lo'ak. his younger brother, the Tulkun Makto. he is your sister's lover but also a younger brother beside ao'nung in your eyes.
neteyam was adamant on keeping you away from having fun, ruining every single ounce of excitement with his lectures. he behaved more like your father than ao'nung did. neteyam the party pooper. tuk created that name for him when he lined all of you up and told you off for trying to adventure to the sea dragon.
when neteyam had almost died before you, it was your name he called out. a friendship that suddenly became so fuelling, you thought of him as a soul mate.
but as time goes on, people change, feelings change too.
word had spread to the omatikaya that you were now accepting proposals, neteyam's family were ecstatic. but neteyam? it was an alarming feeling of betrayal that flowed through him. he didn't expect you to be so foolishly blind.
he had his eyes on you the moment he saw you but you did not entertain him, you did not look his way. you got closer with his brother instead. he tried every conversation with you but it did not last. until you fought side by side, protecting one another. you were locked in with him.
the day neteyam had arrived, you were not expecting anything from it. but what you didn't seem to remind yourself is that he is a man and you are a woman.
you could not sense of what was to come.
"tsmuke (sister)!"
ao'nung's voice pulls you from your thoughts.
"yes bro,"
"the na'ring (forest) na'vi have returned!,"
surprise slaps you round the face.
"the sullys have returned?"
"yes! are you coming to see them?"
your heart drops to your stomach, stepping outside your mauri pod with speed.
"let's go!,"
the two of you dive, darting through the water to the shores of awa'atlu.
the people are celebrating, welcoming the dark skinned na'vi before you. their tails are still as small. but their frames, they are taller, wider, larger. seeing them from behind, you could easily recognise who was who from their frames.
the backs of the two siblings, are defined. curved with muscles, taller in size, larger in frame. they had grown.
ao'nung rushes over to greet them but you don't follow so quickly, you stand back, watching.
"my friend."
ao'nung embraces neteyam, warmly.
"brother, it is good to see you." neteyam's voice is deeper.
his accent is thicker, heavy with every word. his voice is louder, every word so easily heard even if he were to whisper. just his voice screams olo'eyktan.
ao'nung and tsireya greet the sullys with love, your mother & father are quick to do the same. but you do not move any closer, you can only look.
her presence is clear. she is far but i can feel her, she is watching us. neteyam thinks to himself, a smirk lingering on his lips. he can sense you even from a mile away, he can smell your scent of...lilies, paskalin (sweet berry). neteyam's heart thuds against his chest, excitement.
"daughter, come forth," your father's booming voice, calls for you.
each step is gentle, standing beside your father. you lift your gaze, slowly, the sully's stand before you with shock.
neteyam couldn't stop the spark that travels down to his cock from seeing you. you have grown into a woman hand crafted by eywa herself, born again. you do not wear the same figure as before, you are rounder. so full in every corner he looks to, your thighs are thicker, stomach blessed with a pudge. your chest is swell, the roundness of your breasts elevated by the thin material you adorn.
stretch marks are luminous on your skin, travelling up your knees, muscled biceps, corners of your stomach. you hide them with tattoos that lie on your wide hips. tenderly built, full in a way that marked warmth. your face still adorned the full cheeks that are painted with the same pink hue.
you were everything neteyam did not expect and it only fuelled a feeling in him that lied dormant since he left awa'atlu. since he left your side. you had ignited the fire in him, desire.
it is tuktirey's voice that brings you back to reality, her squeal of your name has you walking over to her. you greet every sully with a tight hug, even their father, before you stand just breaths before neteyam.
he is no longer the boy that you would tease on purpose, the boy that would ruin all your fun. he is not the party pooper you remember.
you sigh as you think back to the day you had first met him after many years. neteyam wore scars as if they were the same blessed tattoos you have, he stands much taller, he looms. his face is chiseled, lips full. braids hang just past his shoulders, the same beads and feather behind his ear. he was so built. defined muscles, torso lined with abs, drool fills your mouth.
it was a fleeting feeling at first, the initial meeting was shy. your eyes did not meet but you shook each other's hands with blushes coating each other. a skip of a heart beat you did not register hitched your breath.
since that day, meeting the Olo'eyktan had become painful. he spoke very few words but let his eyes continue the rest of a conversation. he walked through the villages with his shoulders rolled back, hands behind his back. he still stood two steps behind his father, he was the Olo'eyktan and did not force his image.
interactions came more often, you could not escape the man no matter what corner you turned.
"do you not enjoy the celebrations with your people?," he asks you, lowering himself.
you look up at him through your lashes, a small smile on your lips as you take a bite of the fresh meat caught from the hunt.
"does it seem this way, olo'eyktan?"
he laughs to himself, you do not say his name out of respect, more out of mockery.
"it does."
his blunt reply has you silent.
"I hear you are planning on mating," he asks.
"yes...I am."
"I see,"
"do you have a partner, olo'eyktan?"
his silence has you questioning yourself.
"I do not."
"oh,"
"it's out of choice rather than...not being accepted,"
"I did not ask," you smirk.
he grins, shaking his head.
"still the same it seems,"
"of course,"
he hums, standing beside you in silence. the two of you do not utter another word that night, enjoying the quiet presence between one another.
at other times, neteyam would purposefully step in the way.
"you still have gift i made you,"
lo'ak smiles.
"of course I do sis, why would I get rid of it?,"
you grin, hugging him tightly.
"I'm happy to see you again bro,"
"me too, it's been a long time."
"it has, I'm sure things are better though, right?"
"yeah, we're just rebuilding ourselves at the moment,"
"that's good to hear, will you guys be staying for long?"
"depends on dad and neteyam,"
"I see,"
he nods, grabbing your hand.
"your sister missed you every time she left," he says.
"I'm glad she was with you,"
"me too, we wish you were with us,"
"I'm sure I will visit the forest soon, your father has ordered me to come soon,"
he laughs.
"yeah, dad talks about you all the time,"
"he does?" surprise filling you.
before lo'ak can speak any further, neteyam's eyes are dark as they scan your figure.
"bro," lo'ak greets.
"baby bro,"
lo'ak looks down at your joined hands, his brother's eyes hot on them. he lets go fast, patting your shoulder, gulping.
lo'ak knows his elder brother has always had his eyes on you, he knows how much he tried but failed. you were too close to lo'ak, you did not recognise the elder brother who also wanted to be close with you.
"bro,"
"yeah?" neteyam responds.
"you still got feelings for y/n?"
neteyam spits out the food he was eating, lo'ak gags.
"what's wrong with you?" neteyam muffles with a mouthful.
"first of all, that's disgusting. and just the mention of her name has you fumblin', mighty warrior," he mocks.
neteyam rolls his eyes, cleaning himself up.
"when did I ever have feelings for her?" he spits.
"c'mon bro, you weren't fooling anyone even if you didn't, you wanted to get close to her."
"bro..." neteyam sighs.
"she's kinda...she can't tell left from right, if you don't remember,"
"yeah, i know," neteyam groans.
"you had time though bro, you could've told her."
"wasn't the right time baby bro,"
lo'ak nods, rubbing his brothers back.
"she's gonna get wifed then knocked up bro, you better get a move on," he laughs.
neteyam scowls.
"shut your skxawng ass up lo'ak."
every single interaction had a space for neteyam to butt into. he did not let you have any sort of conversation without being there or eavesdropping behind you.
it wasn't attractive, it was jarring. it only spurred your annoyance towards him.
"are the standards that low y/n?," neteyam spits.
"excuse me?"
"you seem to be offering every man a chance,"
"does it seem that way? why does it concern you?" you grit.
"you must be weak minded."
anger burns through your skin.
"do not jest with me, neteyam."
"does it look like i'm making jokes?" his brow cocks.
you scoff.
"right and you clearly don't have any standards since you have no partner,"
he growls.
"don't try it with me y/n, I am just telling you. you have better choices of men, do not allow all of them such closeness with you, just for you to reject them." he shakes his head, sighing.
"and what are you going to do? help me find a mate?"
neteyam gulps, tilting his head.
"yes," he breathes out.
shock short circuits your mind.
"y-you what?"
"I will help you,"
if only you could run back and tell yourself to not fall into this trap, setting yourself up with your stupidity. neteyam announced courting you loud and clear, a promise made between you two.
"you will court me,"
neteyam's head almost snaps.
"what?"
"if you want to help me, you can't just walk around by my side. you must court me,"
"y/n."
"what? you have nothing to lose, don't stress it olo'eyktan. once we find the right one, we can go our separate ways."
you must have lost cells from every fight you lost in your time, because your stupidity angered neteyam. he could not believe the shit that was coming out of your mouth and neither can you, now that you look back at it.
now here you are, stuck in a space of hell. punished with the olo'eyktan next to you at every second. and each time you are near he puts this feeling in you, this thought, the world is slower at every step he takes.
his aura is threatening, his eyes are dangerous and that mouth. every single bit about him has your head spinning, your chest heavy with pressure when he is near.
what was meant to be joint partnership in succeeding you with a partner has turned into something that neither of you were expecting.
"neteyam, this is absurd!," you giggle.
"a man only has to take one look at you and he will claim you as his y/n,"
you roll your eyes, pressing your fingers, gently, into his arm.
a shiver is sent up his spine, your faint touch has his skin burning.
"you do not see how they look at you?"
you cock your hip, turning to face him.
"I do not."
"each time I speak to you i think you will remain oblivious forever,"
"hey! don't be mean,"
he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"i mean it, you're naive,"
"neteyam, i have simple conversation with simple men,"
"and, you fail to find the conversations interesting, your people here are not simple, they are anything but that."
you match his stance, crossing your arms over your chest.
you don't realise what mirroring him has done to you, your breasts lift; threatening to spill. neteyam's eyes can't help but flicker down at them. he smiles to himself. you can't help yourself even if you tried.
"how is them trying to sell themselves to me interesting? you should listen to the things they say!,"
neteyam only kisses his teeth in response.
so oblivious, you do not realise the cart of fruit that is about to hit you. neteyam pulls you in by your wrist, hand heavy on your waist as he moves you before him.
as if you have been winded, you gasp. heart racing at the sudden manhandling. no man has tried to carry you, you thought it was because you're too heavy. but he has lifted you with ease. no strain.
"careful," he whispers.
not realising how close he is to you, neteyam scans you face. the shock has drained colour from your face. he holds you tighter, rubbing soothing circles into your waist.
your eyes are wide, your lips parted.
"are you okay?,"
he lowers his head, moving it to each side of your face and body, analysing for a wound.
"i-i'm...i am not hurt," you whisper.
his hands are rough, calloused. heavy but warm. his hold on you has your skin prickling. licking your dry lips, you lull your head back.
"you are not hurt,"
"i am not." you breathlessly reply.
warmth pools in your belly, a tingle underneath your tweng (loincloth) has you squeezing your thighs together.
it doesn't go unnoticed by neteyam. his brows furrow, eyes flicking from your lips to both of your eyes. your breasts are pushed together, elevating the breaths you are struggling to take.
neteyam sniffs the air, paskalin. so close and intoxicating. the smell of your arousal has his ears flicking, tail curled higher. he smirks, letting his hand rub lower across your back. watching how you shiver below him.
you bite your lower lip, gulping. his warmth has you alarmed. pushing him off in an instant.
struggling to catch your breath, you turn on your heel.
"we will see each other later,"
he does not respond, inhaling your lingering scent on his hands.
you're aroused and you don't even know it.
neteyam is meant to feel ashamed, you're pure, untouched. & he's putting his hands all over you, ruining your modesty. it doesn't push him away from you, it brings him closer. when neteyam wants something, he will do anything to gain it. neteyam is a tsamsiyu (warrior) and he has the skills to achieve anything. even if it meant you.
but his mind isn't set on having you, no. it's to make you desperate for him, no man being able to provide the same presence. he came to awa'atlu to congratulate you, support you but now that he's seen how much you've changed? yeah, no. it was the stupid conversations you have with these men that are only after one thing, he doesn't want that to happen to you! neteyam's just looking out for you.
moulding you. he doesn't deserve you, he knows he'd be torturing you if he had you as his. you would not live the life you live now.
since the day neteyam had his hands on you, you crave for it more. wanting to feel his hands on you just a little longer, the feeling in your belly does not return until he is with you. the feeling between your thighs only happens when you're with him, you want it again.
and you got it alright, any excuse, any small excuse, neteyam had his hands on you.
ꨄ︎
"let us go this way y/n,"
his hand on the small of your back, remaining there as he pulled you, gently, to a different path. that same feeling returns.
"mind your step,"
his large hand holds yours, the roughness rubbing your hand in a soothing way.
ꨄ︎
"oh, your hair,"
"huh?"
he moves your hair behind your ear, tucking it, gently. butterflies fill your stomach.
ꨄ︎
"here,"
"thank you," you whisper.
he hands you a plate of food, filled largely. a smile coats your face.
ꨄ︎
"y/n,"
his breath is hot on the back of your neck, breath hitching, you turn to face him.
"yes?" you shakily respond.
he doesn't say a word, invading your personal space with his looming figure.
"I brought you a gift,"
"you did?," grinning.
"close your eyes,"
"we're not children neteyam,"
"just do it,"
closing your eyes, you place your hands up in the air. your cheeks ache from your hard grin, but when something cold is placed in your hands, you can't help but hum.
"what is it?"
"open your eyes,"
in your hands is your songcord, attached with new beads.
"what's this?"
"one for looking for proposals, one for our return to awa'atlu & the last one is for our new found friendship," his voice is soft.
warmth coats your entire body, you squeal as you pull him into a hug. knocking the wind out of his chest, neteyam lowers himself, steading you with his hands on your waist.
both of you laugh together, holding one another. but you don't realise, the beads are the same colours as the ones in neteyam's hair.
he has completely invaded your space, mind and soul. whatever man you talk to does not stimulate you the way neteyam does. no one interests you as much, no one has you second looking. it's painful, a waste of time. having to participate in pointless conversation that are not leading anywhere.
so you have begun flat out declining.
you do not want your time taken away from neteyam, no other man should waste hours of your days when you could be communicating with the man who knows just what you dislike and like, how to get a reaction out of you & what the right words are to ease your mind.
the grass isn't always greener.
he sits before you, eating fresh meat and sticky fruits. even when he is sat next to you, his frame is still taller. there is no denying the difference in your size next to the olo'eyktan.
"are you even listening to what I'm saying?," you shout.
"I am, I'm multi tasking,"
"what eating and not replying?"
"no...eating & listening."
rolling your eyes, you cross your arms, watching him.
the juice of a fruit rolls down his index and middle fingers, coating them. he tuts before...you're set on fire. you're burning before the man. your heart thuds in your ears, your throat dry.
neteyam's long tongue wraps around either of his fingers, lapping up the juices that trickle down before shoving both the finger in his mouth.
his long lashes flutter before he makes his eyes to yours, he's got you right where he wants you. you're dazed, starry eyed. watching him as every fibre in your body sets alight. your doe eyes stare at him, chest rising with each breath you take.
neteyam's eyes watch for any slight change in your expression, tracking even the smallest flicker. pleased focus. your eyes move to his, glossy.
bright to dark, desire coating his eyes. his pupils dilated, he lets go his fingers with a pop.
your flustered face is bright pink, glowing.
"you okay?," he smugly asks.
that same smell, sweet. your arousal shifts the air you breath, intoxicating his brain.
"y-yeah," you hiccup.
you stand with urgency, shaking.
"i don't feel well, i will see you another time,"
"you don't feel well or you're aroused?"
his question forces your eyes on his.
"w-what?"
"your chest rises faster, your heartbeat is loud, your lips are wet and your pupils are dilated. it is not an illness, you are aroused y/n,"
"w-what? n-no, stop I have to go."
he pulls you onto his lap by his wrist, a gasp turning into a quiet moan.
"neteyem! s-someone will catch us, let go of me!,"
but you do not fight to be freed, your relax further into his hold. he chuckles at your words, chest vibrating against your back.
"do you feel it between your thighs?," he whispers against your ear.
you shiver, hands gripping onto his thick forearms.
you purse your lips, closing your eyes, focusing on trying to stay silent.
your ass is right on his cock, so soft and full.
"tell me,"
his breath travels down your neck.
you nod, slow.
"do you understand what that feeling is?"
you shake your head no.
"it is arousal. does it feel wet and sticky?," he snarls.
you nod.
he groans, cock twitching, he can't stop his hips from rolling just gently.
"fuck," he groans.
you moan against him, his voice sends flushes to your stomach, goosebumps forming all over your light blue skin.
"have you ever touched yourself y/n?,"
confusion causes you to open your eyes.
"what? where?"
neteyam's eyes widen in shock.
"you've never touched yourself?"
"where? you've asked me this twice."
"you've never-"
his fingers slide across your body, pushing your thighs apart. you gulp in anticipation, letting out a shaky exhale. his fingers lightly tap you clothed clit, your back arches. a loud moan leaves your lips, the sensation makes your thighs tremble.
"touched your pussy?"
"n-no.."
"oh y/n."
you whine as his hand moves away. he coos, lifting you to face him, off of him. his strength warms your chest, the strange feeling of being able to be lifted by a man has you light headed.
"neteyam," you whimper.
he tuts.
"go home y/n and when you are alone, when it is quiet and dark outside. let your hands travel down your body, let your fingers touch your pussy, rub it, press down each time you touch your sensitive spot, explore yourself."
the voices of other have you running away, not listening to his call of your name. shock runs your body cold.
she'll do what i've asked her to do. neteyam whispers to himself, rubbing his thumb across his lips.
ding ding ding, he was right.
it is quiet in your mauri pod, silence filling the empty space. the moon is bright tonight, casting shadows within your home. you rid of your cover, closing your eyes.
neteyam fills your mind.
his body,
your hand travels lower.
his muscles,
your hand lets your breasts free, the cold air hardening your nipples. you hiss.
his golden eyes,
you rub your fingers across your nipple, arching into your touch. the sensitive buds sending sparks down you.
the way he held you in his arms,
your fingers travel to your tweng.
his larger frame caging yours,
moving your tweng to the side, you spread your legs wide.
the way he sucked his fingers,
your fingers push against your clit, yelping at the pleasure that bursts through you. you pant, stopping yourself. the feeling is so strange, so different. it has your insides buzzing, warm.
his fingers on your pussy,
rubbing your fingers against your pussy, your moan echoes through the darkness. the touch is exhilarating.
you keep rubbing, circling your clit, gathering the wetness of your pussy and spreading it over and through your folds. the faster you move, the intensity builds. the knot of pleasure inside you threatens to burst -
"neteyam," you moan.
the feeling washes over you, creaming as you shake. your eyes roll to the back of your head. this is addicting & all you've had is a taste of it.
neteyam could tell very well that you had touched yourself. your skin painted pink, cheeks rosy, chest rising each time he was no wear. no need to be so modest y/n.
you were so obedient already. he wanted to corrupt you with things you have never been taught, he wanted to show you what you have been missing out on.
but neteyam was a shy man when it came to his emotions, he's never had the space to talk about how he feels. there was never a need at times.
you began to fill his mind more than you already did. it was not poison, he began to hate himself. hate the thoughts that filled him. his morals did not align with what he was hungry for.
it did not stop, you did not stop infiltrating his mind. his dreams, his thoughts. he'd wake up and see you, go to sleep and see you, during the day you be there before him.
but his morals. you were a pearl, a beautiful woman that deserved to stay pure forever. well that was what he kept telling himself, internal conflict. he was debating with himself each day.
he told himself to look away when you were near, think of anything else but his thoughts did not cooperate, rotating images of you with a stubborn thirst that could not be quenched.
it unsettled him, uncomfortable. he has never obsessed over something before. he has not had time to find love and be selfish, his family is his first priority. & now that he is olo'eyktan, he knows he must focus on his duties.
the argument that ran through him was trapped behind his ribs, surrounded his heart and dug into his blood flow. arteries tightened, his breathing short. but nothing could stop his mind from leaning towards you.
"his silence is frustrating," you mutter, picking at the fruit in your hands.
"what is wrong sister?," tsireya holds your hands, sitting before you with worrisome eyes.
you chew your lip, shaking your head.
"it's nothing," you sigh.
"we haven't been close recently, I've missed you," she huffs.
"I've missed you too,"
"have sempu (father) & sa'nok (mother) said anything about neteyam courting you?," she asks.
"they still don't talk to me tsireya," you sigh.
"I know...I know, I thought they would have said something to you at least,"
"well, they haven't,"
"I'm sure they will speak to you eventually,"
"you have been saying this for years now, there is no point sister. I am not fussed,"
"then what is bothering you?,"
you hesitate, the sound of footsteps stopping you from speaking.
"tsmuke? (sister)," ao'nung calls out.
"come in,"
he smiles when he sees both of his sisters together, making his way to sit beside you both. the sun is shining down into your mauri, the sounds of waves providing music.
"sister," he greets.
"you okay ao?," you rub his shoulder.
"it seems I've interrupted something serious,"
"do not worry brother," you smile, weakly.
"you've clearly got something on your mind y/n," he wraps his arm over your shoulders.
"your best friend, his silence is frustrating,"
"what has he done?," ao'nung purses his lips.
both your siblings look at you with wide eyes, listening.
"he has not spoken to me in days,"
"did something happen between you two?,' tsireya asks.
you think back to how warm his hands were on your skin, his breath causing you to shiver - the scent of mint leaves. his braids brushing over your shoulders, a comforting itch.
you don't realise the colour forming on your cheeks, your brother pulls a face of disgust.
"please do not tell me it was something disgusting, I do not wish to think of my tsawl tsmuke (big sister) in such ways." he shivers, pretending to gag.
you slap his chest playfully, grinning.
"do not think of me as such baby bro, nothing has happened. he has not spoken to me, he stands beside me in silence but at distance or he avoids me whilst we stand in the same room,"
ao'nung scowls.
"he is a sxawng," he mutters under his breath.
"do not be annoyed ao'nung," tsireya hums.
"I can't tell anymore, I do not know what courting even means, how am I meant to feel? am I meant to feel a certain way or did I miss the memo?," you grunt.
ao'nung grins.
"are you asking us how can you tell if you like neteyam?,"
embarrassment shines in your eyes, you look away, a shy smile on your lips.
"when you like someone, you should feel butterflies in your stomach when they are near, your chest will feel tight," tsireya smiles.
"your knees will feel weak, head light headed. & once you feel those things, they will consume every part of you, you cannot rid them even if you tried," ao'nung gazes into the distance, reflecting.
their words have you second guessing yourself, doubting the words you said to neteyam. you made a promise between each other, help you find a partner & then be off on your own ways. but now...you have come to realise, it won't be as easy as you think.
this was never meant to happen.
you were never meant to feel this type of way.
you gasp in shock, cold fingers pressing against your warm lips.
you have feelings for Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.
neteyam could not have guessed he would fall this hard for you, he thought he could stop himself. but that side of him, one that wants to see you on your knees in front of him.
"bro, stop pacing!," lo'ak shouts in annoyance.
"sorry baby brother,"
"you're putting me on edge, what is wrong?"
neteyam sighs, crouching down.
"it's her isn't it?," lo'ak turns to face his brother.
neteyam only groans in response, rubbing his hand down his face.
"why did you put yourself in this situation, your feelings are too strong for her, aren't they bro?,"
neteyam nods, slow.
"I thought helping her would be the right thing, I did not realise this would happen,"
"then you're foolish, you can't believe that you weren't gonna' fall for her when you had some sort of feelings for her years ago bro,"
lo'ak's truth makes neteyam's skin crawl. he knows his brother is right, he should have never put himself in the middle of this shit. he should have just wished you well and stood beside his parents. but you're so interesting, everything about you is hypnotic.
"don't fuck this up bro,"
night has fallen, the people are singing and dancing with the tlalim clan (wind traders). they have taken rest in metkayina, trading and sharing stories with our people before they continue on their journey. the olo'eyktan's of the tlalim are good friends with your father, it is always a blessing from eywa when they are within your presence.
neteyam has not spoken to you although you stand close, the two of you are silent. neither of you make the first word, both equally as shy. you want him to say anything but you do not want to face your feelings for him.
it is when neteyam sees you talking with a tsamsiyu (warrior) of your clan that has him pulling you by your wrist, away from the people.
"neteyam! what's your issue!?" you scowl.
"stop pulling me!,"
your protests fall deaf on his ears.
"stop it!, let me go!,"
his blood is boiling, eyes seeing red, head pounding against his skull. he watched your entire interaction with the male.
your shy smile,
the giggle that escapes your lips,
your doe eyes as you look up at him whilst he speaks,
the way you tucked your hair behind your ear,
the tsamsiyu purposefully flexing his arms in your face,
his eyes that wandered all over you,
his loud cackle at clearly something humorous you had said.
neteyam is seething with jealousy, he could not watch you any longer.
your gentle strides across the people,
your long lashes fluttering as you greeted the people,
the flow of your hair brushing against men that gawked at you,
the people did not care, they clearly did not respect the fact he was courting you.
it was not apparent enough that you were being courted by an olo'eyktan.
his jaw almost snaps from hard he is clenching, he suddenly halts in his steps, letting go of your wrist.
"neteyam? hello? why aren't you saying anything?,"
he turns to face you.
his face is stuck in a expression of annoyance, anger.
he lifts you, fingers pressing down painfully on your skin.
"ow!, neteyam! let go of me!," you scream.
he throws you over his shoulder, landing a harsh spank on your behind. you yelp, kicking the air.
"put me down!,"
"neteyam, you prick!, let go of me!,"
"put me down!,"
neteyam, turn his head, your behind is right against his face. your tweng lifted, the outline of your folds has him inhaling against you.
you gasp, stopping your kicks.
"neteyam?"
he growls, leaving a bruising slap against your cheek, watching it jiggle.
"what is your issue?,"
"stop screaming." he states.
his voice is low and firm.
he places you down, standing in the maze of trees. he paces before you, hands pressed against each other, against his lips.
"neteyam?," you whisper.
his rage is evident, the twitch in his ears is harsh, tail whipping against the ground.
metkayina's pearl. who would've known she would rile up the olo'eyktan of the omatikaya this much.
"do not entertain that tsamsiyu (warrior),"
"what?"
"you are speaking to men of the wrong morals y/n,"
"and you think that dragging me, throwing me over your shoulder is the right thing?"
he shakes his head.
"do you enjoy gaining the attention of others? do you like it when even the men who only want one thing from you approach you?,"
his questions have you breathing sharply.
"do not question what I do after you do not speak to me the way the do, you have no right to be mad,"
"I am not mad,"
"you are fuming neteyam, it is evident." you roll your eyes.
"did you just roll your eyes at me?,"
for some reason, guilt heats your body. it as if you wear the shame when your father catches you doing something you should not be doing.
"yes," you whisper.
his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, jaw clenched. his eagle like eyes bore into you. shaking his head.
the battle in his head is loud. the scent of you so close to his face has him drunk.
"y/n,"
"neteyam,"
seconds pass in silence, eyes trained onto one another.
he takes one step forward,
you do not hold yourself back.
neteyam lifts you as you clash into him, wrapping your legs arounds his waist. he smashes his lips against yours, teeth biting at each other's lips. you moan in his hold, struggling to breathe as he attacks you with his mouth.
it is desperation, the days of frustration pooling from each kiss. his lips are plump, wetness shared. you swallow his saliva that is passed from his tongue, the taste has you in a frenzy. you want more.
the kisses are sharp and unyielding, fighting for dominance via your tongues. it is a challenge that you accept, teeth grazing, breath stolen the pressure had was intense - making your pulse jump.
your moans mixed together, he pulled back. his eyes held a warning in them, a question.
if we continue this, there is no going back.
you answer him with a peck on his lips.
there is no going back.
he grins against your lips, holding you tighter. the kisses are promises, wanting to show you far he was willing to go.
he wastes no time, putting you down. he attacks your neck, biting down as he pulls your breast free. squeezing the fullness, rubbing the sensitive bud. his rough hands against your soft skin, driving you insane.
his fingers reach into your tweng, your wetness welcomes him in. neteyam groans against your lips, puffing air.
"fuck, you're soaking."
you moan in response, digging your nails into his skin. he rubs, the feeling so different to your fingers. his touch warms your skin, warmth pooling low in your belly.
you feel alive, seen, touched in every crevice of your body.
"neteyam," you whimper.
"you feel so good ma'"
you grin, shy. the moon light shines against both your glowing skin, the contrast in shades, calm intertwining with depth.
"what the fuck!?,"
both your faces drop in horror, looking over, your brother stands, shaking. his fists curled, eyes dangerous. if smoke was visible from him it would be coming out of his ears.
neteyam lets go of you, ao'nung runs at him, growling.
"what the fuck are you doing!?," ao'nung roars.
he lands a blow on neteyam, he does not fight back.
"AO'NUNG!," you scream.
he ignores you, dropping neteyam to the ground. he jumps on top of him, throwing rough punches at the olo'eyktan below him.
"AO'NUNG!,"
your fathers booming voice has you dropping to your knees, ao'nung stopping his blows.
the ground shakes underneath your fathers steps, pulling his son off neteyam.
ao'nung entire body shakes, hands spasming. your father does not punish his son, he pulls him away, watching his vibrating figure.
"olo'eyktan," your father helps neteyam up.
"son!,"
neteyam's dad runs over, holding his son to the side.
you pick your nails, tsireya brushes her fingers through your hair. you wait outside the olo'eyktan's mauri pod, neteyam, ao, toruk makto and your father are inside.
you sit with your sister, mother, lo'ak and the rest of the sullys. anxiety runs your skin cold, knee bobbing up and down at pace.
"what happened?," tsireya whispers.
you shake your head, eyes glossy with tears.
your mother argues with neteyam's mother, hissing.
"your son has clearly done something!" your mother spits.
"do not accuse my son of anything!," neytiri hisses.
you head snaps up as they all come out from inside. looking directly at neteyam, he hangs his head low. you try to hold down the tears that escape you.
"you two will wed," tonowari states.
pin drop silence.
"i do not know of the argument between yourself and neteyam, daughter. but ao'nung has said it was a lovers quarrel, to ease the tension. I have agreed, with the blessing of eywa, you will mate before the Great Mother,"
you stand in shock, your father bears a soft smile. for once he looks at your with kindness in his eyes, he does not wear the stoic expression.
you cross over to ao'nung, the anger still washes off him but instead, he also wears a smile.
every single male before you is smiling except neteyam. he stands with his shoulders dropped, a grin creeping.
"we welcome you to our family, y/n te Tsika'u Ronal'ite,"
the sully's celebrate, hugging the both of you. your sister's soft cries have you clutching onto her. lo'ak pulls you into a tight hug, whispering words of reassurance in your ear.
"big sis," he grins, teasing.
your mother presses a kiss against your head as she holds you close, uncontrollable sobs leave you. her touch has been distant for years, she has not held you.
your sat with your brother and neteyam, both of you waiting for him to speak.
"there was no point of me telling father what I had seen,"
"ao, i'm so sorry,"
"don't apologise when it isn't your fault sister, clearly my friend here could not control his urges,"
neteyam sighs.
"neteyam had already asked to marry you weeks ago sister,"
you still.
"w-what?," you stutter.
"it seems he did not tell you,"
neteyam kneels before tonowari, ao'nung stood to the side with lo'ak.
"you wish to marry my daughter?,"
"yes,"
"nga new tsonta muntxa si? (you want to mate?)"
"yes,"
"hm..."
neteyam gulps.
"stand up, you are the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya."
neteyam stands, crossing his arms behind him. his heartbeat is loud in his ears, worry nipping at him.
"nga lu am'ake nga tsun ease 'ite tirengop (you be sure you are able to ease my daughter's life)?,"
"oe lu am'ake (i am sure),"
"you are the son of Toruk Makto, the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, you are one with the forest. my 'ite (daughter) is the pearl of my people, she is of water. she will struggle with your traditions..."
tonowari cannot stop the thoughts of his daughter struggling fill his mind.
"I will care for her greatly, po lu my ya (she be my air),"
lo'ak's lips are swollen as he bites them, eyes flicking from tonowari to his brother. their father enters the room, seating himself as he watches his son.
"my 'ite (daughter) is complex, she is...mighty with her emotions, one of the figures for the people,"
"she is my complexity, she will be mighty with my people,"
"tell me, olo'eyktan. do you plan on making her Tsahìk?"
neteyam nods, shoulders easing with the change in tonowari's words.
"she will naturally enter that position,"
"hm...and does she know of your interest?,"
neteyam gulps down the ache in his throat.
"it has been difficult,"
"you are courting her,"
"I am, it has been very real for me. but to your daughter, she is...this arrangement. we have not shared our feelings," neteyam struggles.
"I see,"
"I am coming to you before the time comes again in the future, my intention is clear sir,"
tonowari grins, nodding his head.
"then so it be, eywa tìng syawn nga mune (eywa bless you two), i trust you will help my daughter express herself, bring the truth to her soon, son. this will be difficult, she is a strong character."
fat tears roll down your face, hot. your cheeks are burning, bottom lip quivering.
acceptance is what makes your chest swell, being chosen. no man has done this, said this, gone to your father to ask for you. no man has been comitted to keeping you around once they actually get to know you. they do not see you for who you are, declining every single man because they do not give you the feeling you've been looking for.
the feeling that neteyam has given you, shown you.
neteyam already chose you from the moment he seperated from you, he did not regret going to your father the moment he agreed to court you. he was anxious, split into two. his urges, he did not want to be the same as all the men that surround you.
"you are a lucky man my friend," ao'nung smiles.
neteyam cannot stop himself from placing his hand over yours. wiping your tears away.
"i am," neteyam whispers.
"ao," you sob.
"do not cry sister, you will make me emotional,"
you wrap your arms around ao'nung, his hands shake as he returns the hug.
"i will leave you two, i hope i never see you two like that again, i feel nauseous."
you press a chaste kiss against your brother's cheek, watching his shy face glow.
you and neteyam kneel before each other, finally alone.
"you did not tell me this was your plan,"
"i wanted you to recognise me yourself,"
you smile, holding his large hand in yours.
"I see you, neteyam."
neteyam's eyes widen, watching you.
all he's ever wanted was for you to see him, since the teenage years he wanted to be close to you the same way lo'ak was. he could not hold himself back from having you but he thought he was a sinner for the way he behaved. deep regret burned holes in his chest when your brother caught the two of you, he kept ruining you, taking away your purity.
neteyam is quick to bare you of your clothing, stripping you naked under the night sky. he moans, precum rolling down his cock.
you cover yourself under his gaze, hiding your parts.
"no, no, it's okay baby, let me see you," his voice gentle.
he kisses you all over, whispering words of affirmation in your ear, reminding you how beautiful you are.
neteyam is soft with every move, taking his time to explore each part of your body. he kisses every scar, licks every spot that has you shivering under him. he spreads your legs open for him, watching the droplets of your arousal trickle.
"you're dripping," he groans.
you watch him, nervous. neteyam's cock is rigid, hard and dripping with his precum. you're going to end up kill him. he brushes his nose down your frame, inhaling your sweet scent, paskalin. so addicting, he moans after each sharp inhale.
you giggle, holding his face between your hands.
"that tickles,"
he grins, flashing his canines.
he kisses your thighs, kissing the stretch marks that are etched into your skin. light moans escape you, neteyam stops his movements.
he looks at you, mind twisting with the thoughts he's tried to push away. he reminds himself of his morals but they do not stop the sinful thoughts.
corrupt you.
mould you.
mark you.
neteyam lets them consume him, closing his eyes. your doe eyes stare up at him, careful not to make a single sound.
"this will hurt y/n,"
"i want it to be painful," you confess.
neteyam's brow cocks, head lulling.
oh she wants me to fucking ruin her.
& so he does.
"open your mouth," he croaks.
you do as he says.
so obedient.
"stick your tongue out, yawne,"
your pink tongue is flat out for him, you watch with wide eyes as he gathers the spit in his mouth, swishing it before spitting it onto your tongue. you yelp.
"swallow it,"
your stomach churns with shame.
he laughs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"swallow it baby, c'mon, don't wanna' upset your olo'eyktan do you?"
you shake your head, no, swallowing it.
"show me,"
his spit is hot, thick as it travels down your throat. it doesn't make you react the way you thought you would, your stomach twists with pleasure.
sticking your tongue out to show him, he grins.
"get on all fours baby,"
the exposed position has you trembling with anticipation, his hot breath on your bare pussy.
he pulls your folds apart, watching the strings of arousal between them.
"your pussy is swollen, you been touchin' yourself?" he slurs.
you squeak a yes.
"nasty girl. your pussy's puffy baby, did you make yourself cum multiple times?," he coos.
you nod, burrowing your face into your arm.
"aw baby, don't be shy. 'm proud of you, did it feel good?"
"uhuh," you squeak.
he laughs against your pussy, burrowing his nose between your folds, letting your scent intoxicate him. you smell sweet, natural, clean. neteyam places a kiss on your folds, you jolt in shock. the pleasure is nerve wrecking.
neteyam analyses you, your two holes so tight. he gathers his saliva once more and spits it on your tighter hole, watching it clench beneath the trickling spit.
you moan as his spit sinks between your folds, your greedy hole sucking it in. neteyam's eyes roll back. your poor pussy is just so tight, he wants to ruin you but you'll bleed all over his thick cock.
you whimper, nails digging into the earthy ground below you. your hips move back, desperate for his touch.
"want me to touch you?," he coos.
"yes please,"
"so sweet, of course my yawne,"
he flattens his long tongue, pressing it against your clit. your hips shake, a long moan elicit from you. the taste of your juices have neteyam seeing stars, cock twitching with need.
his tongue curls between your folds, drinking your juices. each gulp has him thirsting for more, needing to quench his thirst.
he laps at your throbbing pussy, puffy from making yourself cum multiple times the night before. the sensitivity still there, you squeal. neteyam wraps his mouth around your clit, sucking at it fast and rough.
your front half falls flat to the floor, legs spreading further against the rough ground. you tremble, arching.
neteyam hums against your clit, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. it doesn't take long for you to feel the build up of pressure in your stomach.
"n-teyam!," you squeal.
he hums in response.
"i feel, feel like i'm- feel strange!," you squeak.
neteyam can't stop the grin, teeth grazing against your clit, sending you over the edge. neteyam shoves his finger in your clenching hole as you cum, screaming his name.
"feel okay?,"
"yeah," you pant.
"you just came, baby, well done," he praises.
"that felt so weird,"
"should've felt the same way you felt making yourself cum, paskalin,"
you huff air.
"it doesn't,"
"come yawne, i will show you how much better it will feel,"
he lifts you onto his lap, holding you close. neteyam sucks at your sensitive tits, moaning.
"these fat tits," he growls.
lying you flat, he lifts your legs over his waist.
"sevin (pretty), this will hurt,"
you nod, watching his brows knit.
rubbing his tip between your folds, neteyam looks down. his cock is dark blue, tip purple with shiny white precum rolling. thick veins wrap around the girthy length, throbbing.
neteyam helps you pass through the burning stretch, rubbing your clit to provide stimulation as you clench around his girth. he sits so heavy and full inside you, tip curled to sit against your sensitive spot.
he's instant, pistoling, his cock is thick, rearranging your guts.
thwap! thwap! thwap!
his hips bruise you, hand wrapped around your neck. the warmth of your pussy, squelching below him, has his eyes rolling back.
shlick! shlick! shlick!
your stomach bulges with each thrust, your head lulling to the side, eyes white.
"fuck, look at that, see my cock in your belly,"
he grabs your hand, pressing it against the bulge. his rigid cock is hard inside you.
"harder teyam!," you scream.
he grins, lifting your legs, pushing them to either side of your head. he pushes himself all the way in you, bottoming out. his weight is heavy against you, the position has your muscles aching but the pleasure has your nerves buzzing.
"feel's good tey," you moan.
"si nga my sevin muntxate (make you my pretty wife),"
"f'ck me tey please, need it so bad," you whine.
his toes curl at your words, every single hair on his body lifting.
"yeah, you want me to fuck you?,"
"yes please,"
"always so kind,"
his thrusts moves your entire body, your hands scratching him.
"feel's full,"
"yeah?,"
"uhuh, so big!," you squeal.
neteyam's balls tighten, the coil in his belly snapping. he fills you, shaking as he paints thick white ropes of his cum in your womb.
but neteyam doesn't stop, the swishing sound of his cum inside you has him fucking you deeper, slower.
every inch of you feels like it's on fire, head spinning from his attacks.
that same pleasure in your belly has you shaking, clutching onto him.
"gonna- gonna cum, please tey, please." you scream.
"shh, shh i got you,"
"fuck!,"
"clenchin' me so tight, gonna milk me yawne," he growls.
"feel's different teyam, pressure!," you scream.
"huh, gonna squirt on my cock tiyawan?"
you squirt all over him, shaking, eyes rolled to the back of your skull.
neteyam laughs in shock, your juices coat his abs, neteyam pulls out, lowering himself. he gulps down your juice, moaning after each gulp.
you two are in sync, cumming and moaning at the same time. pushing yourselves past your limit, shaking in overstimulation.
you both don't realise the sounds close by.
"you have got to be fucking kidding me!,"
ao'nung's shouting pulls you out of your brainless mind, the two of you turning to face him in horror.
Summary: Raised as part of the Sully family, she grows up close to Kiri, but as she gets older, her dynamic with Neteyam subtly changes. Neither of them says anything, yet the shift is felt… noticed, mutual, and quietly lingering.
Warnings: slow burn, mentions of loss, sensual undertones, tension between characters, mild manipulation, mutual pining,.. lmk if i missed anything.
Notes: i was a bit reluctant on writing this because i know people were a bit weirded out by the spider and kiri situation during afaa but it was already drafted up so.. reader refers to Neytiri and Jake as ‘Ma’ey’ and ‘Pa’ey’ those names give the emotional weight of mom and dad without being literal parental titles.
Word count: 3.0K
part 2
Your mother and Neytiri had been best friends, much like how you and Kiri are now… always laughing, sharing, and looking out for each other.
But your mom was gone, caught in the fires when the humans evaded Pandora.
You remember the cold ache in your chest, the emptiness that settled in when you realized she wasn’t coming back.
Neytiri had been there, always by your mother’s side, and now… now she was all you had left.
Jake and Neytiri found you among the remnants of your home, trembling, ears pinned, tail coiled tightly.
They didn’t hesitate. Neytiri knelt beside you, wrapping you in a protective embrace.
“You are safe now,” Neytiri whispered, voice soft and steady, eyes full of fire and care. “We will not let anything happen to you.”
And they kept that promise.
They didn’t just take you in.. They raised you. They guided you, protected you, and gave you a family to rely on.
You learned to walk, to hunt, to listen to Eywa’s whispers, and to trust again.
They didn’t push you to call them “Mom” or “Dad,” but the love was there, unconditional, steady, and unwavering.
They are Your home. Your family. Your heart.
You remember how it felt the first time Jake smiled at you and said, “You are a sully… you are my daughter ” The weight of his words settled in your chest, a warmth that has stayed with you even now, years later.
Neytiri’s guidance shaped your confidence, her steady presence a anchor in the wild of Pandora.
And because of them, you grew strong, capable, and… ready for anything
You and Kiri slip into the mauri, trying not to laugh too loud. “Ma’ey! Pa’ey! Guess what we found!” you call, holding up a messy pile of forest treasures.
Jake raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Hmm… trouble, I assume?”
Neytiri laughs softly, shaking her head. “Still gathering what does not belong to you, I see.”
You grin, tugging Kiri’s hand. “It is not stealing if we found it first!”
You and Kiri had always been inseparable.
From the moment you could walk, you were trailing after her through the forest.. mud on your feet, laughter in your lungs, hands always tangled together as if Eywa herself had tied you side by side.
Neteyam had always been there too.
Not with you… not like Kiri was.. but nearby. Older. Taller.
A presence that blended into the background of your childhood until, one day, it didn’t anymore.
🐾
His siblings saw you as one of them. Another sister. Someone to protect, to tease, to laugh with without thinking twice about it.
But Neteyam never could.
Even when you were younger.. small and bright and always laughing beside Kiri… there had been something about you that pulled at his attention in a way he didn’t understand.
His protectiveness ran deeper than instinct, sharper than duty.
He watched you longer than he should have. Stepped closer without realizing why.
It wasn’t the kind of care you gave a sister.
It never had been.
As the years passed, the distance between you shifted.
You grew into yourself, into someone who made his chest feel tight and his thoughts slow.
He became aware of you in a way that made him restless, careful, quiet.
Neteyam told himself it was wrong to think this way.
That you were family.
That his place was to protect you, nothing more.
But no matter how many times he tried to see you the way his siblings did…
He couldn’t.
And deep down, he knew he never would.
🐾
Kiri noticed neteyam first.
The way his attention shifted without him meaning to.
How his gaze followed you through the clearing even when the conversation had already moved on.
How he positioned himself.. subtly, instinctively between you and anything that felt even remotely like a threat.
How his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and steady you, and then didn’t, letting you find your balance yourself.
She noticed how he listened when you spoke.
Not politely. Not patiently.
Intently.
And then she noticed you.
The way you went quiet whenever Neteyam stepped into the clearing.
How your fingers fumbled, how your ears twitched just a second too late when his voice joined the conversation.
You, who had grown up fearless, climbing trees faster than the boys, laughing too loud, never shy.. suddenly became all nerves and stolen glances.
Oh, she knew.
You were sitting beside Kiri near the roots of the spirit tree, knees pulled to your chest as she braided a thin cord of fibers.
You were mid-sentence, rambling comfortably, when a familiar shadow fell over you.
“Hey,” Neteyam said casually.
Your brain short-circuited.
“Oh…hi… neteyam.. I mean…” You cleared your throat, heat rushing to your face as you stood too quickly, nearly tripping over your own feet. “I was just… uh”
Kiri bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Neteyam's eyes flicked to you, lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
Something unreadable passed over his face.
like he was cataloging every detail.. the way you avoided his eyes, the flush on your ears, the way your tail betrayed you.
From then on, he made no effort to avoid you.
If anything, he sought you out.. always casually, always with Kiri present.
And every time you stumbled over yourself, he smiled.
Not openly. Not teasingly.
Just a small curve of his mouth. Like he found something quietly satisfying.
Each interaction was small. Innocent.
And every single one left you flustered.
🐾
Neteyam's teasing was quiet. Subtle. Designed just for you.
He started greeting you differently.
Not just a nod. Not just your name.
A hand briefly resting on your shoulder when he passed.
A light squeeze at your elbow when guiding you through a crowd.
Once. just once, he leaned down and murmured a joke meant only for you, his voice low enough to make your ears warm.
You laughed too loudly.
Neteyam's eyes lit up.
He liked that.
And then he started doing things.
Small things at first.
Like sitting closer than necessary during evening meals, his knee brushing yours beneath the woven mats.
Like handing you things directly instead of setting them down.. letting his fingers linger for half a heartbeat too long when you took them.
Like standing behind you while you listened to someone speak, close enough that you could feel his presence without ever seeing it.
At first, you thought it was accidental.
Neteyam had always been kind, steady, calm, attentive in the way the eldest often was. He spoke when needed, listened more than he talked, moved through the forest like it bent itself to him.
So when he lingered near you longer than necessary, or chose to walk beside you instead of ahead, you told yourself it meant nothing.
But then it kept happening.
Every time you were around him, your body reacted before your thoughts could catch up.
Your ears flicked back when he spoke too close.
Your tail curled when his shoulder brushed yours.
Your voice stumbled when he looked at you directly for too long.
And at first, you were too busy being embarrassed to notice him.
Until one evening, the three of you sat beneath a tree as the forest settled into night.
Kiri leaned back against the roots, calm and comfortable.
You sat across from her, knees tucked in.
Neteyam dropped down beside you... closer than he needed to be.
He stretched his legs out and rested his arm behind you, palm flat against the moss.
Not touching you. Just there.
You could feel the heat of him.
Kiri glanced between you both. Said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Your heart pounded so loud you were convinced Neteyam could hear it.
Kiri leaned forward suddenly, resting her chin in her hands, eyes darting between the two of you. "You know," she said innocently, "she gets really nervous around you."
You nearly choked. "Kiri!"
His eyes flicked.. not to your face, but lower. To your tail. To the way it had curled tight around your leg.
Then back to your eyes.
And there it was. That quiet, satisfied look.
Your chest tightened. Wait.....
Neteyam hummed softly, pretending to consider this. His hand playing with the moss behind you. "Does she?"
Your ears burned. You heart thudded. You tail flicking uncontrollably behind you.
His gaze flicked down again brief, deliberate, then back to kiri. And this time, he didn't hide the smile.
Small. Warm. Absolutely unfair.
That was the moment it became clear.
He wasn't teasing by accident.
He wasn't unaware.
You glanced at him and saw it.
The way his eyes softened. The way the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding something back.
The thought hit you so suddenly you almost gasped.
He likes this.
he enjoyed watching you unravel a little at a time.
Not in a cruel way. Not mocking.
But... entertained. Amused. Patient.
From then on, you started paying attention.
And you realized he knows exactly what he’s doing.
‘He’s…. Testing me’ you thought.
It became so obvious neteyam was intentionally teasing you.
Not with words. Just proximity. Light touches that could be explained.
Your shoulder brushing his arm, fingers barely grazing, thighs close when navigating narrow paths.
Each time, your tail curled tighter. Your ears flattened. Your heartbeat raced.
He noticed.
And he definitely wasn't going to stop.
🐾
The first time he tested it, it was almost accidental.
The three of you were sitting together near the training grounds.
You and Kiri were sharing fruit, shoulders pressed together, when Neteyam approached and dropped down across from you.
His movements were easy, confident, completely unaware, it seemed, of the way your spine straightened the second he sat.
He leaned back on his hands. Relaxed.
Your fingers stilled mid-motion.
Neteyam's eyes flicked to your hands. Then slowly he smiled.
"You going to eat that?" he asked, nodding toward the bitten fruit in your hand.
Your mouth went dry. "I.. yeah.. I mean-"
Kiri elbowed you lightly. "She was."
Neteyam hummed, amused. "Was."
You shot him a look, flustered.
He met your eyes easily, unbothered and held them just long enough for your heart to start racing.
You hesitated, fingers tightening around the fruit before, without thinking too hard about it, you held it out toward him.
“I.. if you want it,” you said quietly.
Neteyam’s features lifted slightly. Just a flicker of surprise.
Then he leaned forward. He didn’t take the fruit from your hand.
He bit into it.
Right where you had.
Your breath hitched. Your tail stilled completely.
He pulled back slowly, chewing, eyes never leaving your face. There was a pause.. brief, heavy before his lips curved into something small. Satisfied.
“Thanks,” he said, voice low.
Kiri made a soft, knowing sound beside you.
And just like that, it wasn’t accidental anymore.
You stared at the fruit for half a second too long.
He’d bitten it. Right where you had.
“He’s testing me..’ You think again.
The marks were still there.
Your ears burned, heat creeping down your neck as you became painfully aware of Kiri watching you from the corner of her eye.
Neteyam didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. He just leaned back again, relaxed, gaze settled on you like he was waiting.
Testing.
You swallowed.
Then, before you could talk yourself out of it.. you lifted the fruit and took another bite.
From the same place.
Your teeth sank into the softened edge, his bite still there, unmistakable.
The world didn’t end. No one gasped. No one said anything.
But Neteyam’s posture changed. Just slightly.
His eyes darkened, focus sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t smile this time.
Kiri’s eyes widened. Just a little.
‘Two can play that game.’ You think to yourself.
You chewed slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm even as your heart pounded in your chest.
When you looked back at him, your gaze didn’t waver.
Barely.
Neteyam exhaled through his nose. He swallowed. His face a purple hue.
kiri laughed, tail flicking with amusement. "Ohhh, there it is," she teased, grinning. "Look at you, Neteyam! The mighty warrior, flustered!”
His head jerked slightly, eyes narrowing but not in anger. Just... embarrassment.
Warmth spreading across his face and neck, even though he tried to hide it.
"Ohhh, don't think you can hide that! I see it!" kiri adds.
Neteyam's jaw tightened but the faintest curve of a smile betraved him.
you both sit there, flushed and wide-eyed.
Kiri’s little laughs echoing through the forest.
I hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think!
I see you guys asking for a “Not now. Not ever.” part 2 and that is coming soon!!
I’m also in the progress of writing a Tonowari x reader so yay!
Synposis: You had worked on the bracelet for hours, stringing each shell with care. Your best friend didn’t make a fuss when you gave it to him, and seeing him wear it constantly made all that effort feel worth it. But what happens when it breaks? :(
The last knot was the hardest.
You bit the cord between your teeth, fingers careful as you tightened it, making sure the tiny shells wouldn’t slip loose. When you finally pulled away, the bracelet rested in your palm, and you admired it.
With a quiet breath, you pushed out of your marui and stepped into the warm hum of the village. Beginning to walk toward the shore, you spotted Ao’nung almost immediately.
He was surrounded by his friends near the water, laughter loud, posture relaxed. Not wanting to walk up to him while he was with them, you began to turn back, until you noticed his gaze. It was already on you.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Your lips curved before you could stop them. You lifted your hand in a small wave, meaning to be casual.
Ao’nung didn’t waste a second.
At the raise of your hand, he began walking toward you instantly, leaving his friends behind without a word. Despite their yelling, he kept walking, like you were the only thing he could see.
Your eyes widened, as you were not expecting him to leave his friends.
When he finally reached you, close enough that you could see the faint salt still clinging to his skin, he tilted his head at you. “You were looking for me?”
You swallowed, shifting your gaze from his face to your closed hand. Then you opened your palm, revealing the bracelet, strung with colorful tiny shells on a white cord.
“I made you something,” you said, gaze averted.
For a moment, it was quiet. You looked back up at him, eyes squinting against the bright sun. He looked down at the bracelet in your palm, expression unreadable, and for a second you began to panic, until he gently took it from your grasp.
“Yeah?” he said lightly.
You nodded, wondering if he liked it or not. “You don’t have to wear it.”
He was already slipping it onto his wrist with an easy movement. Shaking his hand side to side, he inspected the new addition with a small smile.
His gaze lingered over one of the shells, like he was memorizing it.
Then he glanced back at you, mouth curving into that familiar, cocky smirk. “Looks good on me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart was way too loud.
And later, when you walked away, you didn’t see the way his friends stared at him in disbelief.
Or the way he kept looking down at his wrist, absentmindedly playing with the shells.
...
Days passed. Weeks.
And the bracelet never once left his wrist, despite the teasing, despite the questions.
You noticed it in everything: the flicker of light reflecting against it when he passed beneath the water, the way he played with the string when he was thinking, the way his hand always found it before and after a swim, making sure it was still there.
Every time you saw him wearing the bracelet, your cheeks warmed, and a soft smile reached your face. You were happy that he was actually wearing it.
But unfortunately, joy is fleeting.
It happened fast. Too fast.
Raised voices on the beach. Teenage boys yelling. Lo’ak’s sharp words. Neteyam trying to pull them apart. Ao’nung’s fists flying against Lo’ak’s face.
You were halfway across the sand when you saw it.
A harsh movement. A sudden jerk of Ao’nung’s arm, pulling away from Lo’ak.
The cord snapped.
You actually heard it.
Tiny shells scattered into the sand.
Ao’nung froze mid-motion.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
His gaze dropped slowly to his wrist. There was an empty space.
As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel sad.
Soon after, the argument dissolved. People drifted off. The beach went quiet again.
But the feeling didn’t go away. Neither yours nor Ao’nung’s.
...
That night, you sat outside on the edge of the dock, looking out toward the ocean, trying not to think about how stupid it felt to care this much over something so small.
Behind you, you heard footsteps against the wood approaching. You turned and looked up.
Ao’nung stood there, looming over you.
To your surprise, there was no smirk on his face. No confident glare. You could see his posture slightly slumped, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
He had one fist balled up, holding something. He stepped closer, crouching beside you on the dock. He opened his palm in front of you.
It was the bracelet. Every single piece.
You looked back up at him, eyes soft. You hadn’t expected him to pick each individual shell back up.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. His gaze was averted, toward the sand below the dock, like he was embarrassed.
You perked up immediately. “It’s okay—”
“I liked it,” he admitted, voice low. “I wore it every day.”
Your breath hitched.
Reaching your hand over his, the tiny shells resting between your palms, you smiled. “I can fix it.”
Quickly, he looked away from the sand and back at you. His eyes were soft, almost like a kid’s on the verge of tears.
“Can you?” he asked, pleading. “Please?”
You began picking the pieces from his hand, careful not to let your fingers shake. “Yeah,” you whispered, with a big smile on your face. “Of course I can.”
Relief crossed his face instantly. He let out a long breath.
And as you sat close together, shoulders brushing while you began re-knotting the cord, he stayed perfectly still. He watched you fix the bracelet, never once taking his eyes off you.
Summary: After losing everything to the RDA's relentless attacks, a battle-scarred omega warrior seeks out the legendary Toruk Makto, driven by the singular need for vengeance. But when she arrives at the thriving Ometicaya clan, she finds he's away—and that her presence as an unmated omega stirs more attention than she bargained for. Exhausted and hollow with grief, she's granted temporary sanctuary and given shelter in a tent that hasn't been occupied in quite some time.
Warnings: Graphic depictions of war and violence, Character death (family members, including children), Grief and mourning, Trauma and PTSD, Blood and injury descriptions, Child soldiers, Omegaverse dynamics (A/B/O), Scent marking/scenting, Heat mentions (non-graphic), Survival situations, Emotional distress/mental health struggles, Suicidal ideation (secondary character), Descriptions of burn injuries/fire, Mentions of bones as trophies/weapons
I think that's all for this chapter, please let me know if I forgot something!
Author's note: Heyyyy, it's been a very, very long time since I last posted. I felt inclined to write a story like this because I couldn't find what I wanted to read and then suddenly remembered that I could write what I wanted to read... lol. Anyways, this will be a slow-burn story, and I have multiple chapters written, so if you like this chapter, let me know!! I can post more if you want!!
Also, I really don't like the use of y/n, so when I might give the reader a name (if it's necessary to the plot at some point)
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Since the age of thirteen, you had come to know life as painful and full of loss. The years before the return of the sky-people were hard to remember. Logically, you knew you had been content–happy even, as a child, but the years of bad memories far outnumbered the good now.
There was a time when you had mourned the soft, younger version of yourself. Mourned the version of you that had been looking forward to the simple things. Such as the start of training. Passing your iknimaya. Celebrating your presentation with your family and friends. Finding a mate. All such simple, mundane things…
And yet, while those events had happened, they were not joyous occasions.
No.
The RDA had made sure that life was unbearably hard. Too hard to be happy.
The start of your training took place earlier out of necessity. So many people were dying from the war. Children who were old enough to carry a weapon were asked to step up to help defend their home. It became essential to wield a weapon–for you, a bow and a knife–just to survive a walk in the woods. To protect your younger siblings and clan members. You had just turned fourteen then. Your muscles weak; your body thin.
When the time came to claim your ikran, it was no longer just about becoming an official warrior, but about having the ability to flee the RDA faster, higher than they could chase you. The passing of your iknimaya was a necessity, a new requirement to survive.
The dream of flying the skies with the same heartbeat as the mighty animal had come true. Except, the yearning for the freedom to fly to the edge of the forest–to see the ocean– had become a distant fantasy. There was nothing freeing about fleeing for your life or flying into battle, hoping–praying to Ewya, that you might live long enough to fight the next battle. Praying that you might live long enough to hug your family one last time.
In another life, you would be embarrassed and full of shame at how good you had become at running for your life. A warrior should stand their ground and fight. But you had seen enough death to know when to give up. When to leave. You had developed an advoident style of surviving.
Together, you and your ikran, Leya, had become very good at retreting. Fast and proficient. Flying quickly and smoothly above trees, through the crevices of the flying mountains, above the clouds.
Someitmes you could almost taste the freedom, just there, on the tip of your tongue. Like a word about to be spoken. In the moments of stillness that came from flying above the clouds. Leya’s strong wing beats would level out and a loud, windy silence would settle over the two of you. There was nothing in moements like this. No commands. No explosions. No war. Just the fleeting presence of peace.
Those moments had become rare: far and few between.
By the age of fifteen, you had become the main source of protection for your two younger siblings. The job had once been split between you and your older brother, but when he died in battle against the sky-people, the weight of his loss fell heavily on your shoulders.
That was the first time you had painted the white kxetuve line of mourning down the center of your body.
A body that had become a killing machine.
You weren’t skinny and frail anymore. The years had begun hardening you. Muscles had grown where they previously hadn’t been. Your legs now taut with stamina to carry your body nimbly through the forest. Your arms and shoulders tense with lethal precision; always ready to aim for the kill.
Killing the sky demons got easier the more you did it. Poison-coated arrow tips did most of the work; even if the hit wasn’t clean, they would eventually die. Even so, no matter how many humans you killed, they seemed to come back faster, and with their metal abominations were killing off your clan faster than you would comprehend.
The longer the war went on, the more devastating the losses were. Death had become a friend to your clan.
Bones rattled against themselves, hung in patterns on new garments. Some even had them braided into their kuru’s. The warriors around you wore the human bones with pride. It was an honor to wear so many; to have killed so many. You might have participated in the trend; however, your mother demanded you never adorn the alien ones.
And you obayed her wishes for a while.
By the next year, you had lost your father and youngest sibling. You didn’t even have time to truly mourn them. No, wave after wave of the aliens came, bringing death and destruction with them. The RDA had begun burning the forest around your clan in an effort to force your clan from their home. From your home.
The white paint had become as familiar as the yellow and purple war paint. In fact, the white paint had become a second skin. A layer of emotional armor to coincide with your physical armor.
Just like your paint your armor also hardly left your body.
A traditional necklace of muted teal and bone-toned river stones—once belonging to your older brother—rested heavy against your slender neck. A leather chest band, crafted by your mother after your iknimaya, crossed your torso, doubling as a sheath and resting atop a green, beaded chest covering that echoed the earthy tones of the leather loincloth at your hips. Soft purple riding leggings clung to your legs, their surface marked by wear. Your younger sister had made you an armband as well, adorned with two feathers—one deep violet and one pale yellow—to mirror the colors of your war paint and ikran. You treasured every gift they had given you, but your favorite piece of armor was the sheath you kept after your father’s death.
You took great pride in replacing his knife with a bone balde you had spent weeks crafting out of the remains of the human who had killed him. That had been the first time you had dragged the killing out for your own pleasure.
If your mother had been displeased at the alien bone you wore daily, she never mentioned it.
By the age of sixteen, the size of your clan had been cut in half in just two years time.
Traditional celebrations were slipping through the cracks. Effort and time could no longer be wasted on pretty weaving and dancing. Everyone was making sacrifices in hopes that the aliens would give up or die out.
Your presentation was not a clan-wide celebration, like it once should have been, but a quaint meal with your two surviving family members in your family’s hut.
You hadn’t even been excited when you had presented as an omega.
At one point, the clan would have called you a gift from Eywa. Your second gender was considered a sacred honor; Eywa’s promise of the next generation secured in your body.
Now survival meant lasting the day, not the procreation of the next generation.
During war being an omega was less than ideal.
Your first heat was a war in itself. The pain was unbearable. Heat and sweat coated your body. Your senses shifted. The smell of the people around you shifted; their pheromones appeared louder, sharper than before. The change was an assault to your nose. Shifts in vocal tone had made your body have a physical reaction that only the angry tone of your deceased father could have elicited. Obedience.
Maybe in some other life, you could have lived out the delicate tradition of going through your first heat with a potential mate. Spent days alone together, feeling out the new changes in your body with soft embraces. But that was not reality.
No, reality was sudden and rough and all consuming. War waited for no one; granted no reprieve from its constant drumbeat. You fought your way through bodies of pink skins while your biology fought its way through you.
The years following your presentation were harder. Stress had caused your body to stop going into heat. Which you were glad about; in war, there was no time to be incapacitated with throbbing pain and aching need. There was no need for your body to bring you more pain when the pink skins flourished in their afflicting torment.
By your twentieth year, there were almost as many scars on your body as stripes. Some small injuries, from training too hard or scraping your body against the rough bark of the forest trees when bolting from unwinnable battles. Others, like the one on your left side just above your hip bone, were bigger and deeper. You had been nicked by a bullet and had almost lost your life from the blood loss. The wound had resulted in a raised scar that you preferred to keep hidden under the ties of your green, leather tewng.
You had developed a true hatred for the metal machines they used to slaughter your people. If it weren’t for the seemingly endless bullet rounds the pink skins had and their metal flying birds, you were sure they wouldn’t have even lasted this long. If they fought like real warriors, with skill and knives instead of cowering in their metal skins and their skin walker suits, they wouldn’t last very long on Pandora. That much you were sure of.
Humans fight dirty and kill dirty too. They never went for a clean kill. Never spoke to Eywa for guidance. No, they killed for no reason and cared little about how their actions affected the forest. How they had they affected you.
The kxetuve mourning line hadn’t left your body in all that time. Every time it faded, there seemed to be a new reason to repaint it on your body. Loss was felt each time you had to apply fresh paint…it was hard to keep track of when one friend's death was repainted over by the loss of a fellow warrior.
And now you had another reason to freshen up the pigment.
A fresh wave of tears was seemingly never-ending despite the wind’s effort to instantly dry them.
You had been crying for days now. The most recent attack from the sky-people had been devastating. They had attacked while your camp was sleeping. There had been no time to prepare or to defend.
The cries of your mother echoed loudly in your head.
You had awoken to her screams.
To your little sister's last breath.
To the sounds of skin walkers raiding and killing off the last of your people.
You had begged, pleaded, and implored your mother to flee with you. But she was more than broken; she was lost. After so much grief–the death of her first son, then her husband, then her most recent child, and now her youngest daughter lay dead in her arms–she could take no more. Her eyes, once bright and golden, had been turned dull. Between her screams, she whispered for you to go–to flee; to leave her to die and finally be with the rest of her family.
You had felt like a child. Not the warrior you were. You were a coward and left sprinting–and soon flying– as fast as you could instead of fighting like you should have.
That had been nearly two days ago. Leya was begging for rest through the bond; she was tired from the endless flying. You were sore from sitting for so long and wanted to stop just like her, but you were scared to stop.
You needed to find toruk makto.
You need revenge.
The thought was the only thing keeping you going. The thirst for blood–for justice–was all-consuming. It outweighed the hunger in your belly and the pain from the windburn on your face. You craved senseless, brutal, savage violence.
The younger, softer version of you would be terrified of the monster you were willing to become.
You would have to kill off the last little pieces of her that still lived in you. And if you had lost that soft, innocent version of you for the justice of your younger siblings who would never reach the age of sixteen; for your older brother who you had aged past; for your father who died protecting your clan; for your mother who had given her children to a senseless war; then you would kill off every soft and weak verson of yourself. You would become harsh, rigid, and lethal to avenge their lives.
You lost count of the different types of terrain you had flown over.
You couldn’t remember when the forest had turned to water, but now the shoreline before you had shifted into another woodland jungle without much time to register the abrupt change in landscape.
Your body ached, protesting every shift in position as Leya descended lower.
The blue ocean that had stretched endlessly before you, its waters darker than you had imagined in all your childhood fantasies, was now a green sea of trees taller and brighter than you had expected.
Just a little further, you told yourself, though exhaustion made your vision blur at the edges. Just a little more.
The Ometicaya clan came into view gradually—first the massive Hometree rising like an ancient sentinel, then the movement of Na'vi below. So many Na'vi. The sheer number of them made your chest tighten. You hadn't seen this many people alive in one place in years.
Their lives continued. Training. Laughing. Living. Like the war was something distant. Manageable.
The sight of it twisted something violent in your gut.
Leya's landing was far from graceful. Her legs nearly buckled as her feet touched the ground, and you dismounted more like falling than descending. Your own legs shook, muscles screaming from days of sitting astride her back.
The moment your feet hit earth, the noise hit you like a physical force.
Voices—so many voices—shouting, laughing, calling to one another. The clash of weapons from sparring warriors. The thud of bodies hitting dirt. Somewhere, someone was singing a war chant, deep and rhythmic, and others joined in with aggressive harmonies that made your skin prickle.
The Na'vi around you didn't just stop their tasks to stare. They turned. Warriors mid-spar froze with weapons raised. Hunters with fresh kills slung over their shoulders pivoted to track your movement. Even the children stopped their games, wide eyes fixed on you.
You must have looked feral to them. War paint faded and smeared. Mourning line stark against your blue skin. Eyes red-rimmed and wild. Covered in days of grime and dried sweat and blood that wasn't all yours.
Your hand instinctively went to the knife at your hip—the bone blade made from your father's killer was more comforting than you might care to admit—fingers wrapping around the handle.
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. You caught fragments of words. Omega. Alone. Look at her war paint. Is she one of ours?
The weight of their stares made your shoulders hunch. Made you want to bare your teeth. These people were whole. Their clan was thriving. Their warriors were strong and unbroken and looked at you like you were something strange. Something other.
Everything about them screamed what you weren't. What you'd failed to be.
Your clan was dead. Your family was dead. And you had run.
Survivor. Failure. Coward.
"I need to speak to Toruk Makto." The words came out harsher than intended, your voice hoarse from disuse and crying. Your accent was different from theirs, shaped by a different forest, a different way of speaking. "Now."
An older woman approached, her movements slow and deliberate. She carried herself with the kind of authority that didn't need to be announced—power that radiated from her very bones.
This clan’s Tsahìk you assumed. The title fit her like a second skin. Behind her, a younger woman followed as if she were the older woman's shadow.
But it was the crowd pressing closer that made your pulse spike. Too many bodies. Too much noise. The scent of so many Na'vi—alphas, betas, omegas, all mixing together in a cacophony that assaulted your nose after days of nothing but wind and Leya's familiar musk.
Your fingers tightened on your knife.
"I am Mo'at, Tsahìk of the Ometicaya," the elder woman said, her eyes sharp as they cataloged every detail of your appearance. Every scar. Every weapon. The mourning paint. Her gaze seemed to pass right through you. Like she was looking into your soul. "This is Kiri, my granddaughter. Toruk Makto is not here.”
Of course he wasn't here.
Of course.
You had flown for days. Days. Pushed Leya past exhaustion. Fled your mother's corpse and your sister's cooling body and the ashes of your home. And he wasn't even here.
The laugh that escaped your throat was sharp and broken. Several warriors shifted, hands moving toward weapons. You couldn’t care.
"When will he return? Who leads in his absence?" The desperation in your voice made you sound young. Weak. You hated it.
"When Eywa wills it," Mo'at replied, her tone giving nothing away. "What is it you seek, child? His son speaks for him in his absence.”
“I must speak with him then.” You can’t help but growl out in frustration. Child. The word scraped against your pride like a blade. You hadn’t felt or been innocent like a child in many, many years.
“He and his brother fight the sky-people as we speak." Her voice never wavers in tone as she answers your questions.
"And when will they return?” You demand.
The Tsahìk doesn’t answer right away. She tilts her head and, with a hum, begins to circle around you like a predator.
You straightened your spine despite the trembling in your limbs. Despite the way your vision swam. Despite the crowd pressing closer with their whispers and their stares and their wholeness.
She was assessing you. Decided if you were even worth giving any information to. Only once she's completed a full circle around your weak, shaky form does she speak.
“They will be home by tomorrow evening.” She holds eye contact with you for what feels like a lifetime before you realise she wants an exchange of information.
The disappointment and frustration of the situation tasted bitter on your tongue. You had flown for days with the singular focus of finding him. Toruk Makto. Jake Sully. The warrior who had done the impossible—tamed Toruk, the great leonopteryx that hadn't been ridden in four generations. The alien who had traded his life to become Na'vi rather than stay with the sky-people he had arrived to pandora with.
Stories of him had reached your clan even in the darkest days of the war. Whispered around fires. Passed between warriors. Legends that felt too grand to be real, and yet the evidence of his existence was undeniable.
He had united the clans. United them. Something no one had accomplished in living memory. Rode a beast of pure fury and death itself into battle against the sky-people and won. Drove them from Pandora with nothing but the will of Eywa and the strength of the people behind him.
Your older brother had spoken of him with reverence before he died. Had said that if anyone could save the Na'vi, it would be Toruk Makto. That he was a lethal legend—a warrior unmatched, tactical and brutal in equal measure. He didn't just fight; he destroyed those who threatened his people.
You had clung to that hope. Through every loss. Every death. Every moment you thought you might break. The thought that somewhere, Toruk Makto was still fighting—still winning—had kept you going.
And now you were here, and he was gone. Off fighting while you stood hollow and broken before his Tsahìk, surrounded by his strong, living, thriving people.
People who looked at you like you were a ghost.
Maybe you were.
"I seek Uturu." Your voice came out flat. Empty. "My clan is gone. I am all that remains."
The murmuring around you grew louder. You caught more fragments now. She seeks uturu? Sole survivor? Her whole clan?
The girl Tsahìk called Kiri shifted beside her. Her expression shifted to something soft. Sympathetic. It made your skin crawl. You didn't want sympathy. You wanted revenge. You wanted the sky-people to burn the way your home had burned. You wanted them to scream the way your mother had screamed.
Mo'at's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes—those sharp, knowing eyes—narrowed slightly. You watched as she scented the air, and her gaze sharpened further.
"You are omega."
Not a question. A statement. Another assessment.
Around you, the whispers exploded. Alphas in the crowd shifted, their postures changing. Some leaned forward, seemingly interested in the Tsahìk's observation. Others stepped back, wary. You could feel their attention like insects crawling across your skin.
"Yes." You lifted your chin, defensive, aggressive. Daring any of them to make it a problem.
Mo'at exchanged a look with Kiri that you couldn't decipher. The silence stretched long enough to make your teeth grind.
Was there something you didn’t understand? Why was your second gender so important?
"And unmated," Mo'at said, and somehow it sounded like an accusation.
The crowd's reaction was immediate. Shock rippled through the gathered Na'vi like wind through leaves. Clearly and unmated omega was wrong to them. Apparently shameful, even. Given the number of people who stepped further away from you.
Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. "There was a war," you bit out. "Mating was not a priority when survival—"
"I understand," Mo'at interrupted, though her expression remained severe. "But you must understand our customs. An unmated omega of your age...it is unusual. It will draw attention. Challenges for you."
Challenges. Of course. You hadn't even considered—
Alphas here probably had rights. Claiming rights. The Ometicaya were thriving, which meant their traditions were intact. Their social structures were unbroken by war. Which meant unmated omegas were probably claimed young, properly courted, and bonded according to ancient customs you'd never had the luxury of following.
Which meant you walking in here unmated, unclaimed, smelling of no alpha, was probably the equivalent of ringing a dinner bell.
Fuck.
"I can fight," you said quickly, and your hand was still on your knife. Still ready. "I have killed more sky-people than I can count. I have survived unimaginable battles. I am not some delicate—"
Mo'at silences you with a raised hand.
Your mouth snaps shut. It takes the rest of your willpower to keep a frustrated growl inside your throat. This was not a battle of strengths but a test of submission. Obedience. Willingness to obey their clan's hierarchy of leadership.
You hated it. Hated how your biology was seen first and your skill second. Hated how you were willingly subjecting yourself to be reduced to a weak version of yourself that was helpless, all for the sake of claiming uturu. Claiming uturu for the chance, Toruk Makto will help avenge your clan–your family.
Mo'at's expression softens, just slightly. "I will grant you temporary uturu. The law is sacred, and you have asked. But you will follow our rules while you are here. Until the Olo'eyktan returns and decides rather to grant you permanent uturu, you will respect our ways."
Relief should have flooded through you. Should have made your knees weak. But all you felt was hollow. You were going to have to play a role to fit in here. Another sacrifice of your character you were willing to make for vengeance.
"Thank you, Tsahìk," you managed. The words tasted like ash.
"Kiri will show you where you will stay." Mo'at turned to her granddaughter, and something passed between them. A look you couldn't read. "The large tent near the edge of the gathering space. It has not been used in some time."
Kiri's eyes widened. "Grandmother, that's—"
"It is available," Mo'at said firmly. "And it is far enough from the main camp to give our guest some... peace."
Mo’at turned to dismiss the gathered crowd. She mumbles a few words to a girl much younger than you. The girl nods and starts to make her way past you and towards Leya. You go to stop her, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.
"Go. Rest," Mo'at said, her tone slightly gentler now. "You look as though you might collapse where you stand. We will speak more when you have slept."
“My ikran…” You trail off, watching as the girl starts to untie your ikrans' saddle straps.
“Nita will take care of her. Now go.” Tsahik’s tone leave no room for argument.
So you find yourself following Kiri through the clan's settlement, and it was wrong. All of it.
The Ometicaya didn't just survive—they thrived. Their tents were well-made, sturdy, decorated with trophies and weavings and signs of life. Warriors sparred with a viciousness that spoke of skill, not desperation. Their strikes were precise, practiced, and confident. Not the frantic fighting of people who expected to die.
You passed a group of young warriors—barely older than you—laughing as they wrestled, their bodies covered in scars that they wore like badges of honor. Scars from victory. From surviving battles they'd won.
Children ran through the paths, playing with toy ikrans, their laughter high and bright and so fucking innocent it made your chest ache.
Everywhere you looked, you saw what you should have been. What your clan should have been.
Strong. Whole. Alive.
The weight of eyes followed you. Whispers trailed in your wake like smoke.
Omega. Alone. Unmated. Survivor. Failure.
That last one you supplied yourself.
The tent Kiri led you to was far more spacious than you expected. Luxurious, even. Woven mats covered the floor, soft and carefully crafted. Weapons hung on the walls—a bow with arrows that looked like they could tear through metal, several knives with edges so sharp they caught the light, a spear that had seen use. All well-maintained. All belonged to a warrior who clearly knew their worth.
Furs were piled in one corner, creating a sleeping space that looked absurdly comfortable compared to the hard ground and cold stones you'd grown accustomed to.
Trophies lined the walls. RDA dog tags. Pieces of shattered equipment. And bones. Human bones, carefully cleaned and displayed.
This wasn't just any warrior's tent.
This belonged to someone important. Someone lethal.
"This is..." you started, uncertain.
"It's available," Kiri said quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes darted away from yours. "You can rest here. I'll bring you food later, okay? Just... just rest."
She left before you could ask questions. Before you could protest. The tent flap fell closed behind her, and you were alone.
Finally and blessedly alone.
The silence pressed down on you like a physical weight.
You stood frozen in the center of the tent, surrounded by signs of a warrior's life. A successful warrior's life. Someone who fought and won and came home to comfort and safety and a clan that celebrated their victories.
Everything you weren't.
Everything you'd failed to be.
Your legs gave out just as you reached the edge of the furs and you collapsed onto the thick, padded bed, and the scent hit you immediately.
Alpha.
Strong and woodsy with undertones of leather and high-altitude winds and something sharper— something you couldn’t seem to name, maybe some type of oil. It was overwhelming after days of nothing but your own fear-sweat and Leya's musk.
This was an alpha's space, but the scent was faded, and with one last look around the room, you decided that whoever had lived here hadn't been home in a long time. The thought made you unreasonably sad.
You should leave. Should demand different accommodations. Should drag yourself back to Mo'at and insist on being placed somewhere—anywhere—else.
You couldn’t stay in the home of a deceased warrior. This hut belonged to someone’s dead son, to a dead brother. It was wrong to stay, but your body had other ideas.
The exhaustion was too much. The furs too soft. And despite the faint foreign scent—or perhaps because of it—something in your omega biology insisted this was safe. Protected. An alpha's den–even a dead one–meant security.
Your eyes slipped closed against your will.
Just for a moment, you told yourself. Just long enough to catch my breath. To gather my strength.
But the moment you relaxed into the furs, your body made the decision for you. Sleep dragged you under like a riptide, swift and merciless and ruthless.
You didn't even remove your weapons.
The bone knife pressed against your hip, the bow across your back dug into your shoulder blades. Your armor stayed laced tight, a second skin you couldn't bear to shed.
You were safe for now, and that was enough.
MUHAHA!!! Did you like? Is it good? How do you feel? I've been writing this for a while, and I'm excited to get feedback!! Is anyone interested in where this might be going? I know there is no Neteyam this chapter, but TRUST I am setting ya'll up GOOD.
Something to wonder: the bow is no longer the same wood as the wood from the Omatikaya's Hometree, correct?
And that's the whole point of the message. Tsireya says, "The spirit of the Ancestors lies in here [the heart]."
A bow, at the end of the day, is just a bow because its history comes from the People, people like Neytiri, who remembers the stories and meaning behind said bow.
So Lo'ak fixes it and gifts it to her. Again, it's not the same wood as before, but that doesn't matter. It's the symbol of people and a home Neytiri cherished and lost.
And it may not come from her Hometree anymore, but it comes from her son, and that's home enough.
